


Divine Retribution

by unbrokenblackbird



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: AKA not that realistic but remember it's a video game, AU - Calypsos win, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Realistic Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Gen, Lilith lives, Major Character Injury, Physical and Mental Torture, Zane is a badass, but settle for ruling Pandora, spoilers for borderlands 3, the Calypsos are sadistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbrokenblackbird/pseuds/unbrokenblackbird
Summary: The Calypsos have won. The Crimson Raiders are gone, scattered across the stars.Those who are left behind will do whatever they must to survive.
Comments: 86
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what I imagine would happen if the Calypsos decided the Vaults weren't worth losing themselves for, instead opting to just take over the planet and have their own world of fanatical psychos obeying their every whim. What better way to enjoy their tyrannical lifestyle than with live entertainment? 
> 
> First fic on this site and first Borderlands fic EVER, so please leave a comment (even if you hate it! :P)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Calypsos have won. The Crimson Raiders are gone, scattered across the stars.
> 
> Those who are left behind will do whatever they must to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what I imagine would happen if the Calypsos decided the Vaults weren't worth losing themselves for, instead opting to just take over the planet and have their own world of fanatical psychos obeying their every whim. What better way to enjoy their tyrannical lifestyle than with live entertainment?
> 
> This is my first Borderlands fic, so please leave a comment (even if you hate it! :P)

"What is up, brothers and sisters? God-queen Tyreen, coming to you live with the _very_ special show you’ve all been waiting for." She dropped her voice to a whisper, leaning into the camera with a conspiratorial smile. "You're about to see the toughest, meanest badasses this planet has to offer face off against our very own… _Vault Thief!_ " The last two words were a shout that had the whole arena erupting into screaming adulation. 

She paused and cupped a hand round her ear, waving her other hand to encourage the crowd. Beside her, Troy grinned and pumped his robotic fist into the air. 

The gate behind them opened and Tyreen's smile grew wider. "Wow, the guest of honour's here already! Didn't realise you were so eager to die for me, Flynt."

"Oh, I got no intention o' dying, sweetheart." There was no humour in his voice whatsoever, only the same cold fury reflected in his face as he glared at her. The enforcer holding him tightened his grip but he didn't flinch. 

"We'll see about that." She waved a hand imperiously. "Take him to the arena. We'll be starting the show soon and I don't want to disappoint our loyal viewers." 

"Anything for you, God-queen." 

"Oh, I just _love_ hearing those words…" Tyreen cooed, then clicked her fingers as if just remembering something. "Oh, and Vault Thief?" 

Zane narrowed his eyes as he was turned back around to face her. 

"Don't forget what I told you. If you don't want your beloved Firehawk—sorry, _ex_ Firehawk—to get eviscerated…" She leaned in and whispered in his ear, though he was certain her audience could still hear her words. "You'd better give us a good show."

* * *

After a series of confusingly twisty corridors, they opened another gate and shoved him through, slamming it behind him. Zane scowled and rubbed at his aching arms, already feeling bruises forming under the leather of his sleeves. At least they'd given him back his jacket and gloves: that meant he'd still have access to SNTNL and his Digiclone if he needed them. Judging from the screaming he could hear at the other end of the short tunnel, he probably _would_ be needing them. 

"Do I even get a gun?" he shouted back through the gate without much hope. When nothing was forthcoming, he cursed and looked around for a crate, ammo box, anything that might offer him something useful. He'd got through dangerous situations with just his gadgets before but nothing like this. With the amount of opposition he was about to face, he needed some firepower of his own or he was done for. 

Eventually, right at the end of the corridor where the bright lights of the arena made him squint and shield his eyes for a moment, he found a crate containing a basic Jakobs pistol and a couple of hundred bullets. Not much, but better than he'd expected. 

_"Are you ready out there?"_ The sudden voice was startling and painfully loud, making Zane wince. _"It's almost time for the show to begin. Don't forget to keep sending in your donations if you want to earn your God-queen's eternal love and gratitude!"_

"Fecking lunatics, the lot of ye," Zane muttered, loading the gun and stashing the rest of the ammo in a pocket. 

_"Let's go! Get out here, Vault Thief!"_

Zane felt a frisson of anxiety and moved to the end of the corridor where, if he peered out at the right angle, he could see one of the screens. It showed Lilith in her cell, arms folded as she glared unblinking at the camera drone. _Good for you, darlin'. Don't give the bastards what they want._

He sighed. _Guess that's_ my _job._

* * *

_This is too easy._

Zane ducked to avoid a blow from a vicious-looking hammer and fired into the psycho's face, killing them instantly. He rolled to the side to avoid another hail of bullets and took cover behind a low wall to reload. Behind him, SNTNL was freezing and shattering enemies with clinical precision, until its timer ran out and it dematerialised. 

"Shite. Okay."

He stood up and pressed the button on his other glove, grinning as the hologram flickered to life. Some of his attackers were visibly confused at the sudden appearance and Zane took full advantage, sprinting away across the arena. "I'm the fake, shoot him! Shoot him!" 

To his endless amusement, it worked on some of them, though not all. Just before he ducked behind a low wall, he felt a bullet tear through his jacket on his left side, leaving a streak of white hot pain in its wake. "Ow, bloody hell!" He clasped a hand to his ribs and felt blood soaking his shirt and running over his fingers. 

_Better hope this ends soon, boyo, or you're in trouble._

Grimacing at the pain as he moved, he reloaded and since nobody was currently shooting at him, took a few seconds to catch his breath. When he looked back over his shoulder, he saw to his relief that most of the lunatics seemed to have taken his disappearance to mean the clone really was the real thing. _Idiots,_ he thought with a smirk as he carefully aimed and fired off three more headshots, taking down more than half of the remaining opposition. His clone did the rest, dropping a live grenade as it dissolved into thin air. The psychos didn't have time to react before the singularity grenade went off, pulling them all into a crushing ball before exploding outwards in a hail of blood and body parts. Zane flung up an arm to protect his face as blood splattered everywhere. 

Was that it? Was it over? 

He lowered his arm and looked around, adrenaline heightening every sense as he surveyed the blood-soaked sand of the arena. The audience was on its feet and screaming, though whether it was outrage at their fallen fellows or excitement at the slaughter, he had no idea. The sharp metallic smell of blood was everywhere, clinging to his skin and filling his lungs with every rapid breath. 

On one of the screens, Lilith was sitting up against the bars of her cell, staring into the camera with relief plain on her face. She'd obviously feared the worst when he'd been hit. He couldn't blame her: as per Tyreen's edict, if he died in the arena Lilith would be killed too. Either they'd just kill her or they'd put her in the arena. Without her Siren abilities she wouldn't stand a chance. She was a formidable fighter but he wouldn't bet her skills against her life if he didn't have to. Trust the murderous Calypso twins to use his loyalties against them both like this. 

_Give them a show, Zane. Give them a reason to keep you both alive._

He took a breath—ignoring the pain from his bullet wound—and spread his arms wide as he made a deep, mocking bow towards the podium where the twins sat. When he straightened up, he looked squarely at Tyreen and raised his chin defiantly. _Bring it on, bitch. I'm not afraid of you._

She raised her eyebrows slightly. If he didn't know better, he might even have thought she looked impressed. It didn't matter either way, really, as the next words out of her mouth made his stomach clench. "Well, boys and girls, that was _quite_ a warm-up, wasn't it? Looks like our Vault Thief wants more!" 

_Feck. Feck fecking FECK._

Ignoring the rest of Tyreen’s announcement, he ripped two long strips of fabric from the shirt of one of the dead psychos. Folding one strip into a pad, he tied it against the wound using the other one, grimacing as he pulled the knot tight. Just in time, too, as one of the gates slammed open and two fanatics ran onto the sand, their skin tinged an unnatural shade of purple. 

Gritting his teeth, he reloaded his gun—trying not to panic at the number of bullets he had left—and unleashed SNTNL once more. 

"Let's do this."

* * *

Lilith's knees were aching from the cold metal of the floor but she couldn't move, couldn't look away. Even in the milliseconds it took for her to blink, she was terrified she'd open her eyes again to see him on the floor, bleeding out; torn apart by the monsters they were forcing him to fight. 

She wouldn't lose another friend. She couldn't. 

"Enjoying the show, _Firehawk_?" Troy Calypso smirked, glancing back at the screen across from her cell just as Zane appeared to stumble, one hand clutching his side. "Oh, it looks like he's been hit! Oh no!" He traced an imaginary tear down his cheek and watched with a smile as Zane dropped down behind one of the barriers. "Looks like he’s finished, huh?"

 _No! It can't be!_ She fought to keep her terror off her face as she stared at the barrier her comrade had disappeared behind. _Come on, killer, get up. Get up!_

His digital clone was still fighting, shooting down psychos left and right. That didn't necessarily mean he was okay—she'd seen the clone keep fighting even when the real Zane had been knocked unconscious—but she had to hope. She'd seen him come through worse than this. 

_…Yes!_

Troy's smirk fell away as Zane reappeared, quickly firing three well-placed bullets into the skulls of three psychos before a grenade did the rest. Lilith let out a sigh of relief that she didn't care if Troy heard, her lips curving into a smile. As Zane bowed with almost palpable sarcasm towards the podium, she felt a burst of pride. _Even in a situation like this, he still finds a way to be a smart ass._

"Don't get too comfortable," Troy snarled, slamming his metal fist against the bars of her cell and briefly tearing her attention away from the screen. "He's not done." 

_What?_

"He won. You're not going to break your own rules, are you?" she demanded, bravado covering her fear. 

"We make the rules. That was Round One." Troy grinned. "Let's see if he survives Round Two." 

Lilith heard the sound of a metal gate and watched with mounting dread as two of the Calypsos' elite followers, the horrifying Anointed, charged out into the arena. "That won't stop him," she said with more confidence than she felt. 

His grin just widened at her words. "We'll just have to see, won't we?" 

As he walked away, his laughter echoed behind him, fading into the sound of bullets as she returned her gaze to the screen. _Come on, Zane. You can do this. I know you can._

The glass screen flickered, then cut to black. _What? Wait a minute! I can't see what's happening!_

Troy poked his head back round the door to the cells. "Oh, did I forget to tell you? You don't get to watch this one. Eridium-membership viewers only." He snickered and closed the door. 

No. No no _no!_

_Breathe. Relax. It's not like being able to watch would have changed anything. Besides, just because you can't see him doesn't mean he can't see you. Brave face, come on._

She leaned against the bars and ran a shaking hand through her hair, fighting to keep from screaming in frustration.

* * *

It felt like hours had passed by the time the door opened again and Zane was dragged in, both arms held tightly by the same two enforcers that had taken him earlier that day. Lilith scrambled to her feet and ran to the bars, her eyes desperately scanning him for injuries. He was upright and walking—a good sign—but he looked utterly exhausted, his expression tight with pain. Her heart hammered at the amount of blood soaking his clothes, though she knew it wasn’t all his. He raised his head and caught her eye, giving her a small smile and an even smaller shake of the head. 

_Not yet. Keep calm._

She took a deep breath and watched silently as they shoved him roughly back into the cell next to hers. He staggered, grabbing the bars to keep himself from falling, and the pair of them sniggered. 

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, arseholes. Just you wait til it's your turn, eh?" He dragged a finger across his throat in an unmistakable gesture and grinned. 

"Why you—" One of them lunged at him but was held back by the other. 

"Queen Tyreen says we ain't allowed to hurt them. Only she's allowed to do that, she says." 

The one Zane had baited snarled and stomped away out of the room, swearing and cracking his knuckles. The other slammed the cell door shut and turned the lock with a smug smirk, before stomping away too. 

Once the outer door had closed and their footsteps had faded to silence, Zane slowly released his grip on the bars and sank to the floor, leaning his back against the side of the cell. For the space of several heartbeats, he didn’t move or speak, just sat with his legs slightly bent, elbows resting on his knees. 

“They didn’t let me watch the second fight,” Lilith said softly. “I was afraid you’d…” She stopped and bit her lip. 

He glanced sideways at her. “You were worried about me? I’m touched, Lil. But I’m okay.” He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced when it came away smeared with blood. 

“I know you got hit, at least once—”

“—It was just once—”

“So you're not okay!” She glared at him. “Don’t downplay this. How bad is it?”

"S'fine. Just a flesh wound." He gave her an almost convincing smile. "It'll take more than that to slow me down, Lil." 

"That's what I'm afraid of," she admitted. "Will you let me take a look at it?" 

"Suit yourself." He turned so he was leaning sideways against the bars between their cells, his wounded side closest to her, and carefully pulled away the improvised bandage, then the shirt underneath. It stuck to the drying blood and he hissed through his teeth as the fabric came free. 

"Lucky. Looks like a graze, not too deep. Still bleeding a bit, though. I don't like the idea of leaving it untreated." 

It was Zane's turn to scoff. "I hardly think they'll be providing us with medical supplies, Lilith!" 

"I know, I know." She scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "This whole thing… It's just so _fucked up_. You shouldn't have to do this."

"Stop that." His voice was sharpened by the pain and the ebbing adrenaline still flooding his system as he continued, “I know that tone. Don't you _dare_ feel guilty for this. None of this is your fault, Lilith. _None._ "

"You're risking your life—”

"It's my choice." He spoke firmly, giving no room for argument. "I want to get us both out of here and I want to take those bastards down on the way out. So I'm gonna fight to protect both of us. I can do it. Whatever it takes to keep us both alive until we can get out of this hellhole and give the Calypsos what they deserve. For Maya… And for Ava."

She looked at him for a moment, eyes wide. As if realising what he'd just said, Zane coughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Got a bit, uh, carried away there, didn't I?" 

"No. I needed to hear that." She sighed. "I've just lost too many people, too many friends, to be okay with risking another one."

"Even a pain in the arse like me?" He grinned. 

"Yep." She managed a smile, but it faded as her eyes slid down to his injured side again. "Can I do anything to help?" 

He followed her gaze and grimaced. "Not unless you managed to stash some bandages on the way here. Don't worry about me, Lil. I'll be fine." 

_I'm starting to hate the word 'fine'._ Lilith watched in silence as he unwrapped the makeshift bandage, tore a new strip of fabric from his own shirt and replaced the folded piece before tying it back up again. He didn’t make a sound but couldn’t quite keep the pain from his expression. All the while, he kept his eyes down, averted from hers as if he was afraid she'd see his true feelings in them. 

She hoped he wasn't feeling what she was. Guilt, shame, fear, panic, despair—they piled on top of each other, rising painfully in her chest and threatening to choke her. Swallowing hard, she shifted to lean her back against the smooth metal wall of the cell and took several deep, slow breaths, focusing on the bitter cold of the metal seeping into her skin. 

Her blank, tattoo-free skin. 

_I can't fall apart now. I_ can't _. No matter how pointless I feel, how worthless and powerless I am now, I am still needed._

Through the bars, Zane leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The pain was still there, pulsing through his chest every time he breathed, but it was bearable and so he would bear it. For as long as he had to. 

It had been a week. Only seven days. 

Somehow it seemed like an eternity had passed since the Calypsos had claimed Pandora. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Calypsos prove that their sadistic tendencies can span torture of many varieties and Bad Times are had by all involved.

Zane had expected to find sleep impossible, but his exhaustion had apparently won out. One moment he was blinking, the next he was being sharply woken by Lilith hissing at him through the bars. "Hey, look alive! Someone's coming!"

Adrenaline thudded through his veins and he sat up quickly, then cursed and pressed a hand to his side as his injury protested at the sudden movement. "Ah, shite! What… Lilith?" 

"I don't know what’s happening. It's too early for—”

She cut herself off as the door opened and Tyreen walked in, flanked by two of her fanatical guards. "Good morning! Sleep well? No? Aww, that's too bad. I slept like a baby." She sauntered over to stand in front of Zane's cell and smiled through the bars at him. "You're a star, by the way. Every single one of our followers saw you in action yesterday and they _loved_ it! Our viewership has never been bigger and do you know what that means?” She waited as if waiting for an answer, then rolled her eyes and answered her own question in a sing-song voice. “Do-na-tions! And more followers, of course." 

Zane clenched his jaw and stayed silent, his gaze firmly fixed on the wall behind her. He’d removed his hand from his injured side as soon as the door opened, determined not to show any more weakness than he absolutely had to. Monsters like her fed off that kind of thing. 

Tyreen pouted. "Hey, don't be so ungrateful. There's a whole planet full of people out there who would _kill_ to be as famous as you are right now."

"What do you want, Tyreen?" Lilith demanded, standing up and glaring through the bars. 

The God-queen looked at her and smiled pityingly. "You have no idea how lucky you are, do you, Firehawk? You do realise you're only alive right now because it’s keeping your friend here in line, right?"

"So you've said," Lilith replied, "but—”

" _So_ I'd stop asking stupid questions if I was you," Tyreen cut her off. "Because I might get annoyed. You don't want me to get annoyed. Trust me." She smiled again. "We won, you lost. Get over it." She made a gesture at one of her guards and turned back to Zane, who was still pointedly ignoring her. "You hungry, champ?" 

He didn't reply, but his stomach had other ideas and growled at the mere mention of food. Neither of them had been given anything to eat since yesterday morning, but he'd be damned before he'd show any gratitude to this harpy. His knuckles creaked as he clenched his fists tighter, refusing to look at the tray that had been pushed into his cell. 

"You should eat. Big show tonight. You'll want to keep your strength up." 

His stomach growled again. He didn’t react, except for a deep breath and a slow blink at the wall opposite. This was the first time Tyreen had made an appearance alongside their meagre rations. That meant this had to be a test; one he intended to pass. 

"So stubborn. Honestly." Tyreen tutted and shook her head. "Alright. If you insist on starving yourself to make some kind of dumb ass point, how about we add a new rule to the game?" She waved a hand and a second tray of food was set down in front of Lilith's cell, several feet out of reach. "You eat, she gets to eat. You keep being stupid, you both starve."

_So that's her game._

If Zane’s jaw clenched any harder, he’d be concerned about his teeth cracking. Her casual cruelty was sickening, even after everything that had been done to them so far.

He threw a glance at Lilith, who was pale and stoic as she continued to glare at Tyreen. When he finally looked up at the self-styled God-queen, she smirked as if she'd won some great personal victory and nodded down at the tray. "Eat up. Oh, and if we see you sharing," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at a camera drone hovering in the corner of the room, "you'll both get nothing for the next three days. Kay, bye!" She winked and waggled her fingers in a wave, then turned and left without another word. Her minions followed, leaving the second tray in the middle of the floor. 

"Sick, twisted _bitch!"_ Lilith snarled, slamming a fist against the bars. "She's as crazy as the psychos who follow her."

"No arguments here." Zane closed his eyes, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to exorcise the rage he'd been suppressing through the whole exchange. He'd learned fast that Tyreen tended to get bored faster and leave if he didn't rise to her baiting, but he couldn't prevent the anger from rising in his chest like acid. 

"You should eat, though." Lilith's voice was calmer now, but it still carried an edge. "If you're going into that arena again tonight—”

"I know." He opened his eyes, rubbing a hand across them. They felt like they'd been scrubbed with sand. 

Lilith lowered herself back onto the floor and crossed her legs under her. "Did you get much sleep?" 

"Some. You?" 

"Yeah, a little." 

Zane gave her a sidelong glance. "You're a shite liar, you know that?" 

She smiled ruefully. "So I've been told."

"Get some rest. I'll wake you if anythin' happens." He huffed a sharp sigh and reached for the tray, trying with limited success not to picture Tyreen's crowing face as he did so. Barely looking at the food, he ate mechanically, tasting nothing but the bitterness of his own rage and hatred. 

_Someday I'm gonna kill you, Tyreen Calypso._

_And I'm gonna take my time._

* * *

The scraps he’d been given were barely enough to dent his hunger but at least his stomach was quiet again. They’d been generous enough to give him some water, too—twice in as many days. _Wonders never cease._ He drank about half then set it down, resisting the urge to gulp the whole thing in case that was all he got til tomorrow. Glancing at Lilith’s tray, maddeningly close but not quite close enough, he felt a fresh stab of anger. Wasn’t she suffering enough already? 

Speaking of… He turned his head to look through the bars. An hour or two ago, she had finally managed to relax enough to fall into a restless sleep. He was glad, but at the same time the solitude and silence was wearing on him. He wasn’t a man accustomed to long silences: that was why he'd formed his habit of talking to himself. If she'd been awake, he might’ve paced the width of his cell to give himself something to do, but he didn't want to make too much noise and ruin the one bit of rest she'd had in days. 

Instead, he studied her thoughtfully, noticing how even in sleep her face bore the lines of stress and fear they'd gained when they'd lost Maya. No; he supposed she'd always had them, since before he met her, but now they were just more pronounced. Her stomach growled again and he winced, wondering how long they were going to make her wait before feeding her like they promised. 

Shifting his weight to try and ease the pressure on his aching side, he closed his eyes and bit his lip, remembering the moment when everything had started to fall apart. Maya disintegrating before their eyes. Ava's grief. Running. Fighting. 

Failing. 

He tasted copper and forced his jaw to relax. 

Dragging his thoughts away from that minefield, he found himself wondering what he'd be facing tonight. Would it be another free-for-all like yesterday, or would there be something more specific in store for him? Or maybe they wouldn’t send in people, but animals instead? 

_Please, don’t let it be rakks. I bloody hate rakks._

He hoped they wouldn't put him up against more of those ‘Anointed’. They were a bugger to kill, since they apparently felt no pain, moved ridiculously fast and if they hit you with one of their weird eridium-fuelled attacks, it _hurt_. One at a time he could manage on his own, two at a push—as he'd proven last night—but any more than that and he would be in big trouble. All he could hope for was that they took a long time or a lot of eridium to make, so the Calypsos wouldn’t want to waste them all on him. Right? 

_Who feckin’ knows, Zane? These are real, certifiable lunatics you’re dealin’ with. They don’t think like normal people._

Judging from the narrow strip of light that passed for a window, he guessed it was around midday now, or just after. Still a few hours before they would reach prime viewing time and he'd be hauled out for another round. 

There was a rustle as Lilith stirred, her face creasing into a frown. Zane held his breath, trying to be as silent as possible in the hopes that she wouldn’t wake. She needed all the rest she could get. 

_And you don’t?_

He pointedly ignored that stray thought. 

Lilith stirred again, more violently this time, and he heard a low sound he’d never heard her make before. It almost sounded like a sob. He froze, wrestling with his conscience as he debated whether to wake her or not. She was clearly having a nightmare and would probably be grateful for a prod to get her out of it, right? At the same time, it was the first proper stretch of sleep she’d had in days. Surely it would be better if he— 

She made the noise again, frowning more deeply as she curled up tighter and audibly whimpered. “No, no, not again… Please...” 

_Right. She’s not okay. Time to intervene._

He slid across the floor to the bars separating their cells and knocked on the metal, making them ring softly. "Lil?" 

No response. As he watched, she stirred again and pulled an arm up as if to protect her face. "No, please!"

"Hey," he said softly, not wanting to startle her. When she still didn't wake, he raised his voice a bit. “Hey. Lilith. Are you—” 

Her eyes snapped open. “No!” she cried out, sitting bolt upright and looking around wildly. When she saw him looking at her through the bars, she froze, chest heaving and eyes wide like a startled animal. 

“Guess that answers that question,” he muttered, then raised his voice a little and spoke in what he desperately hoped was a reassuring tone. “Hey, hey. It’s just me. It’s okay. Well, it’s not— Yeah, _wrong_ word to use right now, but you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and took a breath. “You, uh, appeared to be havin’ some...difficulty,” he finished lamely. 

Lilith scrubbed a hand over her face and shook her head as if to shake something out of it. “I’m fine. I just… I’m fine.” 

He looked dubious. “You didn’t sound fine to—” 

“I said I’m fine!” she snapped, her voice like a whip-crack. “Just… leave it alone, okay?” she added, almost pleading. 

Zane didn’t like hearing that desperation in her voice, not one bit. Still, he’d get nowhere by pushing her. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him. “Alright. Have it your way. I’m glad you got some rest, at least.” 

She gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. Gotta take what you can get, right?"

“Right.” Zane smiled, opening his mouth to say more but paused when he heard footsteps. “Oh, good. Showtime.” 

“Be careful out there,” she cautioned, scrambling closer to the bars and looking at him with worried eyes. “Don’t do anything rash, Zane, okay? I mean it. Don’t take any risks you don’t have to.” 

“Hey, ‘cautious’ is my middle name. One of my many middle names.” He grinned wolfishly. 

She huffed an exasperated laugh through her nose, retorting, “Yeah, right between ‘reckless’ and ‘insane’.” Her smile fell away. “Just…” 

He nodded, his own smile fading a little. “I know.” 

The door opened and Zane stood up, shoving away the pain from his injured side and swaggering to the front of the cell. “Alright lads, no shovin'. Plenty o’ me to go around.” 

As he was marched past Lilith's cell, he turned his head to catch her eye and gave her a sharp nod: the closest he could get to a salute with both arms held behind his back.

_Stay strong, Commander. We'll get through this._

* * *

"Vault Thief! We’re so glad you could join us tonight!" Tyreen waved with mock enthusiasm from the podium and blew him a kiss. 

Crouching in the shadows at the end of the tunnel, Zane ignored her completely and focused on checking over his gear, since he hadn't had the chance after yesterday's bout. He couldn't care less about the condition of the jacket itself—the leather had been patched and replaced so many times he doubted any of it was original—but he did care about the compact digistruct modules sewn into the sleeves. If anything happened to those, he wasn't exactly in a position to fix them and he didn’t fancy his chances without them either. They looked fine, if a little scratched, but there was no way of knowing for sure until he tried them out. 

_Not an ideal time or place for experiments...but we'll make do, won't we, Zoomer?_

A big part of him itched to press both buttons now, to see if his inventions could reach far enough to sink just one bullet into Tyreen Calypso's skull. That sadly wasn't an option; the odds of success were slim and even if he succeeded, he had no other weapons with which to deal with the inevitable enraged mob that would follow. He might be angry but he wasn't stupid. 

If the God-queen was put out by his lack of reaction to her baiting, she concealed it well as she continued, "So let's see if our friend here has what it takes." She leaned into the camera and smirked, whispering, _"I'm willing to bet he doesn't!"_

Zane opened the gun case at his feet, picked up the pistol—same one as last time, complete with his bloody fingerprints—and loaded it, pocketing the spare bullets. Not as many this time, he noticed. An uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu settled over him but he shoved it down along with everything else, leaving only what he could use. Just like his training had taught him all those years ago.

He’d been trained well.

* * *

It didn’t take long for the real cruelty of today’s trial to become clear. Lilith felt sick as she listened to Tyreen explaining the rules of the ‘game’, her eyes fixed on Zane as he dodged, rolled and shot his way through wave after wave of enemies. They weren’t as challenging this time, which made no sense until she realised it wasn’t the _number_ of kills the Calypsos were interested in tonight. 

It was the brutality of them. 

They’d even gone so far as to generate some kind of perverse points system, with a score out of ten that went up or down for each kill. So far, Zane had apparently been far too merciful, cutting down each foe with a single shot or otherwise killing them too fast for the twins’ liking. 

Her eyes flicked to the number in the corner of the screen: a flashing ‘2’. 

_“If you can’t do better than a ‘2’, Vault Thief, we’re going to get bored.”_ Tyreen’s sing-song voice was cheerful but there was a clear note of threat in it too. _“Wanna find out what we do when we get bored?”_

The door to the cells opened and Lilith startled backwards away from the bars. She’d been so focused on the fight she hadn’t heard footsteps approaching the door. She sat bolt upright and watched with narrowed eyes as Troy sloped into the room, no doubt here to gloat some more. He was holding a hand behind his back and smirking in a way that made her skin prickle with trepidation. 

“What do you want?” she demanded, intensely grateful that her nervousness didn't show in her voice. 

His smile widened. “Oh, this isn’t about you, sweetheart. I’m just here to give your friend a little incentive to play by the rules.” The camera drone had moved to hover above his shoulder, projecting her clearly onto one of the screens above the arena. On the screen opposite her cell, she saw Zane look up, his eyes widening in horror. 

_No, don’t get distracted, you idiot! That’s exactly what they want!_

There was a sharp metallic sound, then everything hurt. 

The world tilted sideways, going dark as her whole body seized up, muscles cramping and convulsing without her control. She hit the floor and the taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit her tongue.

 _W_ _hat… What is this?_

It went on for a few seconds—though it felt like hours—then stopped, leaving her shuddering and panting on the floor of the cell. She lay as still as she could, waiting for her muscles to stop seizing.

 _Did he just...shock me? What the actual_ fuck _?_

Through the heartbeat pounding in her ears, Tyreen’s horribly cheerful voice filtered in. _“See, Vault Thief, we’re pretty good at making our own entertainment. If you can’t deliver, that’s fine...so long as you don’t mind us helping ourselves to a slice of fried Firehawk!”_

Lilith forced her eyes open and glared up at Troy, who snickered and raised his hand. As if in slow-motion, she could see that he was wearing a glove, something bright and metallic glinting in his palm, before he pressed it against the bars again and she couldn’t see anything at all. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Bad Times escalate as the violence continues.

_You bastards!_

Zane snarled and spun around, shooting down three more before the trigger clicked but no bullet fired. _Shite._ As SNTNL fizzled out somewhere behind him, he ducked behind a low wall and reloaded, trying to catch his breath and figure out what to do. He had to do _something_ —that much was clear—and the longer he waited to figure it out the more Lilith would suffer. He’d had to tear his attention away from her to avoid being cut in half, but even with his back to the screens he could still see her in his head, shuddering on the floor of her cell. 

It seemed his usual brand of lethal finesse wasn’t going to cut it this time. Why were the Calypsos so intent on making him follow their stupid rules? Did they get off on controlling people, or was it about turning other people into the same kind of monsters they were? Ultimately, he supposed it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was surviving and he was Lilith’s best chance at doing just that, if he could just _get his shit together!_

He closed his eyes. 

_Come on, Zane. You’re a killer and a feckin' good one at that. They wanna see a bloodbath?_

_Then let’s give ‘em one._

Opening his eyes, he peeked around the low barrier. Two psychos closing in. One gun, one axe. 

He smiled. _I like those odds._

He stepped round the barrier and fired, the bullet ricocheting with a ‘ping’. The psycho with the gun shrieked and dropped it, shaking his hand and staggering backwards. The other looked quickly from Zane to his fellow and back again, then raised his axe and charged forwards with a roar of outrage. “Now YOU scream!” 

Zane tucked his gun into his waistband, dropped slightly into a defensive crouch and waited. Hands at his sides, his muscles slowly tensed with anticipation. _Not quite. Just a little closer…_

_There!_

Just as the psycho swung the axe, clearly intending to take Zane’s head off, the operative ducked and slammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. At the same time, he grabbed the arm holding the axe and, in one sharp movement, yanked it down flat across his knee. A ‘crack’ followed by a scream of pain echoed around the arena as the axe fell to the sand. Letting go of the broken limb, he pivoted and kicked the psycho hard in the abdomen, feeling at least one rib crack under his boot before the man collapsed backwards onto the sand, wheezing. 

The audience had gone almost silent, but Zane wasn’t finished. Keeping one eye on the injured psycho while he focused on the other one—who had picked up the fallen axe—he flicked his wrists and was pleased to find his Digiclaws still worked. 

He let his lips curve into a cold smile and beckoned with both hands. 

“Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

* * *

_Breathe. Don’t move. Just breathe._

Lilith lay on her back, panting raggedly as cramping pain wracked her body. Her heart hammered a painful tattoo on her ribs. Blinking hard, she managed to bring the ceiling into focus. That was progress. 

“That’s more like it!” 

At the sudden sound of Troy’s voice, she tensed, then instantly regretted it. Gritting her teeth against a whine of pain, she slowly turned her head. He wasn’t standing right by the bars anymore. Did that mean it was over? Or was he just taking a break before the next round of torture? 

“Looks like your friend’s not as dumb as we thought, Vault Thief.” He turned to face her and smirked. “You should see this. It’s freakin’ brutal, man. Didn’t know he had it in him.” 

Her eyes moved to the screen, for a moment seeing nothing but blurs of colour. Then her eyes focused properly and she frowned. _Are those...claws?_

Troy laughed delightedly. “Oh, shit! I need to see _that_ again.” 

He pulled something out of his pocket, a bit like an Echo device but more compact, and tapped out a series of commands on a tiny keyboard. The screen flickered, then the footage looped back to repeat a clip of Zane ripping a set of glowing blades out of the mangled torso of a dead psycho. His teeth were bared in an expression that could have been a snarl or a feral grin—exactly which, Lilith wasn’t sure. It repeated again, then flashed back to what she assumed was the live feed, just in time to see Zane decapitate another psycho. She looked away, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the torture or her current state of near starvation. 

She’d known he was a trained killer before they met—hell, it was why she’d recruited him in the first place—but she’d never seen him fight like that. He was always the sort of combatant who valued either speed or efficiency (or both, if he was really showing off) above all else when it came to putting down the enemy. He didn’t waste time and ammo with body shots, or wounds that hurt rather than killed. If there was a chance of taking down three targets with one bullet, he’d wait to line up the perfect shot just to see if he could do it. The savage, barbaric slaughter she was witnessing now was so unlike the Zane she knew… She was ashamed to admit, even to herself, that it was a little unnerving. 

She wasn’t a stranger to death—not by a long shot—and there was no end to the blood that stained her hands, of people she had failed to protect and those she had killed herself. She didn’t judge him. Nobody who had carved out a life in this harsh, unforgiving world had any right to that. She just hoped he didn’t judge himself too harshly when this was over. 

_“I think he’s got the message, bro. Come back up here, you’re missing all the fun!”_

Troy glanced at Lilith, then down at his gloved hand, looking almost wistfully at the device nestled in his palm. “Aww, but we’re having such a good time! Maybe we can do this again sometime, hmm? What do you say?” 

She glared up at him, eyes narrowing. “Fuck you,” she enunciated carefully, her bitten and bleeding tongue feeling twice its usual size. 

His laughter fell away like a cracked mask and he stalked to the front of her cell, raising his hand again. 

She tried not to react, she _really_ did, but her body moved without her permission, cringing away from the threat. Humiliation burned her cheeks and made her eyes sting, but she forced herself not to look away. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Not so tough now, eh, _Firehawk?_ ” he said mockingly, waggling his fingers at her, all the while that horrible little device barely an inch from the metal of the bars. 

_“Troy, what the fuck are you doing in there? Get back out here!”_

He scowled and tapped a button on the tiny Echo again. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Sheesh.” 

_Well, it’s obvious who wears the pants in that household,_ Lilith thought scathingly, not bothering to keep her contempt from her face as he narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Don’t get too comfy. We’re just getting started, bitch.” He turned on his heel and walked away, accidentally nudging the meal tray that still lay in the middle of the floor with the toe of his boot. “What the fuck?” he muttered, kicking it roughly out of his way and heading for the door. 

She held her breath as the tray skittered across the concrete, sliding tantalisingly closer and closer. Her eyes widened. 

_I... I think I can reach it now!_

Clinging to what was left of her battered pride, she held out until the door had finally closed behind him, before diving for the bars and reaching through. Her abused muscles screamed in protest but the desperate messages from her stomach were louder. _Yes!_ Gripping the edge of the tray with her fingertips, she dragged it the rest of the way into the cell, falling on the food like a starving animal and barely tasting a bite. The first gulp of water felt like rain soaking into parched soil, but she managed to keep herself from downing the whole thing. Capping the bottle regretfully, she took a moment to revel in the feeling of _not_ being painfully hungry and thirsty. 

_Never thought I’d be thanking Troy Calypso for anything, but here we are. Thanks a bunch, asshole._

No longer starving, however, came with a downside. Now that she wasn’t distracted by hunger or the cramping pain in her muscles, which were finally—thank _fuck_ —calming down, she had nothing to focus on but the screen in front of her. 

_“Took your time! Glad you could join us, Troy. I think our Vault Thief’s having fun!”_

_“Well, I think he looks a bit lonely out there, Ty. Shall we give him some more friends to play with?”_

Lilith looked back to the screen and froze as she saw the arena gates opening, a veritable horde of fanatics rushing onto the sand. Oddly, none of them seemed to be carrying guns. Zane still had his pistol; that meant he still had a fighting chance. Right?

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. 

_I don’t care what you have to do, Zane. Just get out of there alive._

* * *

Without SNTNL and his Digiclone, he’d have been utterly screwed. 

He’d managed to thin the ranks a little before he’d run out of ammo; now it was down to them to give him some cover while he hacked and slashed his way through the rest. SNTNL whirred overhead, freezing and shattering the weaker enemies while the clone fired one digistructed bullet after another into everything it could reach. 

He couldn’t spare the attention to check the screens but he hoped his ‘performance’ was good enough for Lilith to be left alone. She’d suffered enough for his failures. 

Baring his teeth, he threw himself at the nearest fanatic, using his own momentum to drive his claws up under the man’s ribs and into his heart before shoving his body away and pivoting to deal with the next. The Calypsos had planned this well. By making sure none of his attackers had guns, they’d ensured two things—that he had to fight in a much more aggressive close-combat style than he usually preferred to, and that he couldn’t nick a gun off any of the fanatics. 

_I bet they’re absolutely loving this. Sick bastards._

Zoomer swooped low over the melee and dropped a grenade, before vanishing in a flash of blue. Zane dived to the side to avoid the explosion, which took quite a few of the remaining lunatics with it. He grinned. _Still got it._

A roar from behind him made him turn as he scrambled to his feet and he cursed, diving again to gain some distance on the mauler bearing down on him. A massive cleaver sank into the sand where he had been moments before and he swiped at the huge man’s wrist with his claws, breaking skin but not deep enough to make him drop the knife. The man snarled and swung the huge metal shield on his other arm but before it connected, Zane hammered the button on his right glove. In an explosion of blue sparks, he felt the all-over chill and slightly breathless sensation of swapping places with his clone. The mauler’s blow slammed into the clone’s chest, but it felt no pain and just kept shooting. 

A bark of slightly hysterical laughter burst out as he ducked behind a barrier. “Ha! Idiot.”

He twisted to check over his other shoulder and felt an odd tugging sensation, then a burst of stinging pain just below his ribs. _Shite._ He'd opened his wound again. Well, there wasn't much he could do about it now. He was amazed it didn't hurt more, though he supposed adrenaline probably had something to do with that. At least the bleeding seemed fairly minor, as far as he could tell. 

Poking his head over the barrier, he scanned the area and huffed a relieved sigh when he saw that the majority of the horde had gone down, either bleeding out from his melee attacks or shot down by his digital helpers. The few that were left had either gone for the clone or were rooting around among the bodies—looking for what, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

_“LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M CHARGING AT YOU!"_

He whirled and raised his hands just in time to stop a sawblade tied to a stick from being buried in his chest. “Bloody hell!” 

_That’s what you get for daydreaming, Zane boy. Pay attention!_

He rolled away and got to his feet, then ducked another swipe and kicked the psycho in the inside of her knee, making her stumble. There was a flash of blue light and he noted absently that the clone had finally gone down, leaving a bouncing grenade in its wake. A quick slash to his opponent’s arm sent the sawblade spinning away into the sand, before he drew back his other hand and sank the blades into her neck. Blood poured over his hands and splattered his face as he ripped them out and shoved her away from him, grimacing in disgust. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he heard a ‘boom’ as the grenade exploded, scattering blood and debris. 

Too late, he lowered his arm and saw a flash of metal. The huge steel shield dropped by the mauler had been caught up in the explosion too. 

_Oh, feck._

No time to dodge, or run. Barely time to think. 

He raised his hands to protect his face and his claws sank inches deep into the thick plate-metal before disintegrating, their efforts slowing it enough that it didn’t completely pulverise him but unable to fully absorb its momentum. He was thrown backwards several feet, slamming down hard onto his back with the shield on top of him. 

There was a bright explosion of pain in the back of his head. Everything went dark for a second, then flashed back with agonising brightness. He felt an odd sensation like he was floating. The shield was heavy on his chest and he tried to shove it away but his arms wouldn’t move. The sky spun above him and he tried to blink, but his eyes didn't seem to work either. 

_Shite…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see proof that even the toughest sons-of-bitches are still only human.

_This isn’t happening…_

Lilith clung to the bars with white knuckles, her eyes fixed on Zane, lying unconscious on the blood-soaked sand. She’d seen him overcome everything they’d thrown at him: the harrowing melee, the maulers, the near-miss with the saw-wielding psycho...and now he was going to die from _this?_

No. No fucking way. 

_“Oh no, looks like the Vault Thief’s had enough excitement for one day. Such a shame. He was doing so well, too!”_ Pouting, Tyreen traced an imaginary tear down one cheek, before she paused. _“Wait, is he actually dead? Someone get in there and make sure he’s not just taking a nap.”_

One of the gates opened, a lone fanatic walking slowly out onto the sand. He moved nervously, having obviously drawn the short straw to be the one to check if Zane was really dead. Apparently the Calypsos were sticking to their ‘no guns’ rule for this too, because he was armed with only a length of chain. Moving slowly to limit the noise, he wrapped the ends of the chain around his hands as he walked slowly towards Zane’s motionless form. 

_No. No! Wake up!_ Lilith slammed her fist against the bars, her heart pounding in her ears like a drum. 

The camera zoomed closer. The greater level of detail did nothing to appease her panic. At least from there she could see he was stirring, so he definitely wasn’t dead, but he would be soon if he didn’t wake up _now_. 

_Come on, come on. Get up. Get UP!_

Zane stirred again, this time causing the metal shield to shift slightly. The fanatic startled and took a step back. Above them both, the audience jeered and shouted, desperate for more bloodshed. As if in reaction to the noise, Zane’s eyes flickered open. He frowned and blinked a few times, confusion etched across his face. 

Lilith felt her blood run cold. Was he concussed? Did he even know where he was? 

Apparently unaware of the danger he was in, Zane shoved the metal shield off his chest and slowly rolled onto his side, then made his way onto his hands and knees. The fanatic circled behind him to stay out of his line of vision, taking the comparatively safer option of approaching the injured Vault Hunter from behind. Still kneeling, Zane didn’t seem to notice he wasn’t alone until the fanatic dived onto his back, throwing the chain over his head and pulling it tight around his neck. The audience thundered its approval, their screams drowning out Lilith’s own scream of horror. 

“NO!” 

Tears ran down her face as she watched Zane struggle to break free from the chokehold. He swung a fist behind him, clipping the side of the attacker's face but it wasn’t enough to cause damage or make him let go. He tried again but missed completely, clearly disorientated. 

_He’s finished. He's done. This is too much._

Lilith buried her face in her hands and slumped to the floor, shoulders shaking. 

_His blood is on my hands, just like all the others._

The audience screamed again and she turned her back on the screen. She couldn’t watch another friend die. 

_I’m so sorry, Zane. I can’t even give you that. I just… I can’t. Not again._

* * *

Black spots danced around the edges of his vision as pain hammered through his skull. If he didn’t do something soon, he was a dead man. Zane threw a punch over his shoulder but it barely connected. An elbow into the man’s gut did nothing; not surprising given how little strength was behind it. 

Force clearly wasn't an option. _Okay. Just need to be a bit creative, then._ Tricky right now, seeing as how his brain had just been scrambled, but if he couldn’t think of something soon… Reaching behind him on instinct, he grabbed at the fanatic’s collar. The move might have started as a reflexive attempt to throw him, but as his fingers closed around a handful of the man’s shirt, he had a sudden idea. 

_Oh, please let this work. And for feck’s sake, don’t let me stab myself. That would be a_ _really_ _embarrassing way to die._

He held on tight to the handful of fabric and flexed his wrist sharply. 

For a long, horrible moment, nothing happened. Then—

“ARGH!” 

The fanatic let go of the chain, staggering backwards as blood spurted from deep wounds in his chest and neck. Zane slumped forwards, barely catching himself on his hands and coughing painfully as the chain unravelled from his neck and fell to the sand with an innocuous 'clank'. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Tyreen’s voice was incredulous and agonisingly loud, reverberating around his pounding skull. “What are you _made_ of, Vault Thief?”

If he’d looked up at that moment, he might have been amused by the brief expression of shock and—though she’d kill anyone who said it—awe on Tyreen’s face. He might also have noticed the momentary dark look Troy shot her way, before returning to his customary bored sneer. 

As it was, he could barely notice anything outside of the fact that his throat felt like he’d swallowed broken glass and his head was being squeezed in an invisible vice. Once he’d finally managed to stop coughing, he deactivated the claws so he couldn't accidentally fall on them and kill himself. His whole body ached but that was nothing compared to the sickening pain emanating from his skull. When he raised a hand to touch the back of his head where the pain was worst, he was vaguely surprised to find there was no blood. 

_Finish the job, Zane._

Raising his head and swallowing hard against a sudden wave of nausea, he staggered to his feet and turned towards the podium. The first place he looked was the screen showing Lilith’s cell, but his long-distance vision was too blurred to make out the details. He could see that she was facing the camera but he couldn’t make out her expression. If only he still had his optic… But he was getting distracted again. _Focus, boyo._ Dragging his gaze to the centre of the raised platform, he looked up at the twins. No doubt he'd end up falling on his face if he tried to replicate the theatrical bow he’d deployed yesterday, so he settled for fixing Tyreen with the best cold stare he could muster under the circumstances. 

"We done here?" he asked, his voice scratchy and painful. It seemed to take a lot more effort than it should have to clearly enunciate even those few words. At least he didn’t have to raise his voice: the camera drones hovering nearby would pick it up well enough. 

"For now. Good job, Vault Thief! Hope you had as good a time as we did.” Tyreen’s tone was bright and so patronising even a child would have been offended. “Let’s do it again soon, yeah? Now get the fuck back in your cage.” She waved a hand to the minions behind her and turned to the camera hovering by her elbow. "What up, brothers and sisters! That was really _somethin’_ , wasn’t it? I mean..."

The clang of a gate opening nearby cut through the rest of her words, sending a sharp spike of pain through his already throbbing head. He winced but resisted the urge to clutch at his aching skull as he walked unsteadily to the edge of the sand. The floor seemed to tilt under him and he stumbled, but didn’t fall. 

_Zane boy, don’t you DARE quit now! You are gonna walk out o' here on your own two feet, dammit!_

His vision greyed around the edges and he cursed softly, blinking hard to try and clear it with marginal success. 

Just a few more steps. 

Entering the comparative quiet of the tunnel was an unexpected relief. The muffled sounds of the arena behind him were becoming oddly distorted, as if he was hearing them through water. Rough hands grabbed his elbows, holding him still while they stripped him of his jacket and gloves. Through the thickening fog in his mind he felt a spark of pain and flinched away as one of them knocked against his wounded side. 

“Ouch! Hey now, buy a man a drink first, eh?” he quipped, though his attempt at humour was marred by the fact that his words were starting to slur together. 

_Well, that’s not a good sign, is it boyo?_

* * *

“I don’t get it, Ty. Why the hell is he still alive? I thought the whole point of this was to use the Vault Thieves to bring in more followers—”

“What the fuck do you think we’ve been doing?”

“—and then _kill_ them. Why are they still here?” Troy threw up his hands in frustration as he paced back and forth across the floor of the deserted throne room. 

Sitting sideways across her throne, legs flung over one arm of the ornate chair, Tyreen rolled her eyes. “I told you, Troy. He’s useful. They’re useful.” 

“For what?” he demanded. “All he’s done is kill a bunch of our followers! I mean, yeah, it’s pretty entertaining, but—” 

“God, you’re so slow sometimes!” Tyreen exclaimed, kicking her legs up and swivelling to face her brother. “Where exactly do you think the eridium for your dumb experiments comes from?”

He glared at her. “They’re not dumb.”

“Whatever. You’re missing my point, as always.” She sighed dramatically, ignoring his deepening scowl. “My point is, if all these idiots don’t have a worthy cause—AKA us—to throw their shiny purple moon rocks at, what’s the point? They might as well be wiping their asses with them. If they give them to _us_ , I get to develop my powers and you get to keep playing with your… What did you call them again? ‘Purple Glowy Mega Badasses’, or something?”

“It’s ‘Anointed’,” he retorted. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it. And stop talking to me like I’m stupid!” 

“Then stop acting stupid!” she snapped. “Troy, these streams are bringing in more followers from all over the galaxy than we ever thought possible. Sure, we could just kill them. But what happens next? How do we keep it going? How do we top that?"

He glared at her, but didn't reply. 

"Look." She spread her hands in front of her. "One stream, maybe two, where we kill them." She raised one hand, palm up, about six inches. "Or more streams where we show the world that we _own_ these Vault Thieves." She raised her other hand higher and pulled the first one down, like an unbalanced scale. "The numbers add up, Troy. You handle the tech, I handle the PR. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked. So you go back to your experiments and let me handle the Vault Thief. 'Kay?” She was looking back down at her Echo before she’d even finished talking. 

Troy scowled at her for a couple more seconds, then shook his head angrily and stalked towards the door. Halfway there, however, he stopped and turned, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think—” He stopped himself with an angry grimace and shook his head again. “No. Never mind. Screw this.” 

Tyreen looked up as he slammed the door closed behind him. She frowned. _What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_

At least he’d taken his shitty mood elsewhere; that was something to be thankful for. It had only been a few days and already she was getting sick and tired of his bitching. She felt like they were five years old again and he was jealous because she was paying more attention to her pet manta than she was to him. 

It was pathetic. 

Flicking her fingers over the screen of her Echo, she read the numbers again and smiled.

* * *

Lilith didn’t think she’d ever felt so emotionally burnt out. She’d ricocheted from anxiety to terror to relief and back to terror again so many times in the last couple of hours that now she just felt numb. If the Calypsos were attempting to kill her from either a heart-attack or a nervous breakdown, they were going the right way about it. 

She heard footsteps in the corridor and watched mutely as the door opened, two of the Calypsos' heavies half-dragging, half-carrying Zane inside. He was technically upright but clearly not able to walk on his own, his legs buckling under him and his arms hanging limp in the enforcers’ grip. His escorts dumped him unceremoniously in his cell, locked him in and headed for the door without a word. 

Zane remained where they'd dropped him, his legs half-curled under him and both hands braced against the floor to hold himself up. His arms shook and his head was bowed so she couldn’t see his face. He didn't speak or look at her; she wondered if he was even aware she was there. "Hey. You still with me?" she asked softly. 

He startled, looking up at her then wincing and pressing a hand to his head. "Argh... Lilith?" 

"Yeah, it's me. It's okay. The fight's over." _For now._

"Oh, thank the feckin’ gods…" He slumped against the bars between their cells and curled into a ball, both hands clutching his head. " _Shite_ , that hurts…Shite shite fecking shite…" He muttered a few more curses, too quietly for her to hear, before subsiding into silence. 

Shuffling across the cell, she sat cross legged through the bars from him. The urge to reach through and lay a hand on his shoulder—to offer what little comfort she could—was strong but she held back. Until she knew exactly how badly he was hurt, she wouldn't risk making it worse. She could see fresh blood seeping through his shirt and grimaced, wondering if his wound had reopened. That was something he really didn't need, on top of everything else. 

"I saw what happened. I thought…" She stopped and bit her tongue. 

"Yeah. Me too." His words were short and clipped, utterly lacking his usual warmth and wit. 

After another long few minutes of silence, she cleared her throat and said quietly, "I need you to talk to me, Zane. I need to know how bad it is."

He didn't reply immediately and she wondered if he'd passed out. Then he hummed a low affirmative noise, slowly relaxed the fingers gripping his hair and uncurled enough to peek sideways at her. "Lil?" 

"I'm here." 

"You're...okay?" 

Coming from someone who was always so self-assured and confident, the uncertainty in his voice was horrible to hear. She kept her anxiety off her face as best she could and nodded. "I'm fine. Bit sore, but I'll live. What about you?" she persisted. 

"M'fine," he murmured, in a response so reflexive it might have made her smile if it wasn't so obviously untrue. 

"Don't give me that shit." She shook her head and leaned to bring herself down to eye level with him, keeping her voice low and quiet. “I know your head hurts. Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

His eyes shifted downwards and he seemed to consider her question for a moment. “Just...bruises, I think,” he replied, uncertainly. 

"Do you remember what happened?" 

He looked back at her with a frown. "Yeah, I was… I was fightin’...and then..." His frown deepened and he started to look worried. "Somethin'… I-I don't…"

"Hey, it's okay!" she said quickly. "It doesn't matter. It’s okay."

He shot her a disbelieving look—almost worthy of his normal self—then winced and pressed a hand back to his head with a wordless cry of pain, eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

_He should be lying down, in case he faints_ , she thought, observing with growing unease the pallor of his face and the rapid pace of his breathing. "Zane. Can you hear me?" 

"Uh huh." 

"You need to lie down. I know it hurts, but trust me."

"Yeah…okay…" Moving slowly, he shifted his weight off his legs and lay down on his side facing her, his head resting on his arm. All the while, Lilith could hear him swearing through gritted teeth, and there was a sheen of sweat on his skin by the time he was done. After a moment, he opened his eyes, looking at her with much less than his usual focus. "Lilith?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You sure…you're okay? Saw ‘im hurt you." 

She felt a fresh stab of worry at the uncensored anxiety in his voice—she'd never heard him sound so openly vulnerable before—but managed to force a smile. "I'm fine. Honestly. Just a bit worried about you."

"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes tiredly. "M'sorry, Lil."

The words cut like a knife. _You have_ nothing _to apologise for, Zane. Nothing at all._ "Get some rest. I'll keep an eye out for trouble." 

_And try to make sure you don't lapse into a coma and die._

_...No pressure._

He mumbled a response too soft to catch, eyes fluttering open once before they closed again. 

Lilith pressed the heels of her hands to her face, stifling a curse. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter a little self-indulgent? Absolutely. 
> 
> Will there be more of this? Almost certainly :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zane has a headache (to nobody’s surprise) and Lilith does her best to keep her shit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a slower one here, hope nobody minds! There's plenty more action coming, if that's what you're here for :P

Exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, Lilith smothered a yawn behind her hand. The strip of window on the other side of the room was starting to lighten, suggesting that sunrise wasn’t far away. That meant it had been a few hours since she’d last checked on Zane. 

He had barely moved since falling asleep last night. It was the first time she’d ever seen him stay still for such a long stretch. For someone normally so restless and fidgety, it was more than a little unsettling. Every so often, she’d had to watch him carefully to reassure herself that he was still breathing. She vaguely remembered being told that you were supposed to wake someone with a concussion every few hours, to make sure they weren’t comatose or dead. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d do if either of those things happened, but thankfully he’d woken every time she’d tried. She’d made him answer a few questions—“What’s your name? Do you know where we are?”—and asked him how many fingers she was holding up. He’d got the questions right but failed the visual check every time. _Nothing wrong with his long-term memory, at least. Time to see if the rest has improved._

She reached through the bars and gripped his shoulder gently, giving him a tiny shake. “Zane. Time to wake up.” 

He frowned and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “feck off”. 

“Hey, none of that. Come on. Wake up.” 

“Mmph... What?” He cracked open first one eye, then the other, grimacing and blinking a few times. “Lilith?”

“Who else?” She raised her eyebrows. “How do you feel?”

He blinked again, squeezing his eyes tight shut before opening them. “Shite. But...a little less shite than I did before, so that’s good, eh?” 

He sounded so much like his normal self that she found herself smiling. “That’s definitely an improvement.” She raised her hand, three fingers extended. “How many fingers?”

“Aww, this again?” he groused, but there was a flicker of amusement under his exasperation. “I’m crap at this game, Lil. Keep gettin’ it wrong.” 

Her smile widened. “Humour me.” 

Zane sighed and looked at her hand. “Three. Now you’re gonna shake your head an’ tell me it’s two, right?” 

“Nope.” She lowered her hand. “Full marks. Guess your brain still works after all.” 

He gave a short huff of laughter, but it dissolved into a pained groan and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “Might be workin’,” he muttered, “but it still feckin’ hurts.” 

Lilith bit her lip. “Yeah, I hear that’s a thing with concussion.” 

Shifting his weight slowly, Zane turned onto his back, swapping the arm that was supporting his head and flexing his undoubtedly numb fingers with a grimace. “D’you know,” he said conversationally, his voice still tight with pain, “I don’t reckon I’ve ever had a concussion before.” 

“Uh…good for you, I guess?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I like to keep track. For…reasons.” He gave her a sidelong glance and the corner of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile. “You doin’ okay?”

“You’ve asked me that about ten times today,” she replied with no irritation or censure, just mild amusement. 

“Yeah, well.” His mouth twisted in an awkward grimace. “Bit distracted all those other times. Don't really remember much o' what you said." 

“Ah.” She winced. “Fair enough. I’m fine. Aches a bit, but I’ve had worse.” 

He hummed a noncommittal reply and they lapsed into companionable silence, enjoying what little peace and quiet they could get. 

* * *

Troy was not happy. No, that was an understatement. He was _pissed._

What the fuck was Tyreen playing at? She’d always been a control freak and lately more than a little obsessed with their viewer figures, but that wasn’t the problem. Far from it, actually: with such a massive influx of new followers, their eridium and cash balance was through the roof (almost literally). He had everything he needed to run his experiments and design new machines as much as he liked. 

The problem was her attitude. 

She was treating their prisoners like _pets._ Worse, she was showing them a degree of mercy he hadn’t seen in her since they’d left their father on Nekrotafeyo. He’d seen the look on her face when the Vault Thief had failed to die (again). That hadn’t just been surprise—he’d felt a bit of that himself. 

She’d been _impressed_. 

That was what pissed him off so much. 

He could still feel the ache in his jaw from when the Firehawk bitch had punched him. He’d played it down at the time—live stream and all—but she’d fractured bone with that hit. It had healed, of course, but it had fucking hurt! Not to mention the way he’d been humiliated on Eden-6. The Vault Thieves had been nothing but trouble from the beginning. 

They deserved to _DIE_. No amount of punishment in that arena would be enough compared to the sheer satisfaction of ending their worthless lives. 

Once, Tyreen would have agreed with him. Now, he wasn’t so sure. 

At least she was letting him have his fun with the Firehawk, even if the real aim was just to keep the other one toeing the line. It had been so _sweet_ watching her flail on the floor of that cage, utterly at his mercy. He hadn’t felt a rush like that in years. 

He almost hoped the other one would screw up again. Maybe then he’d get to play some more. 

Maybe he’d do it anyway.

* * *

Zane spent as much of the next few hours as he could just resting, not really sleeping (although he did drift a little) but just keeping still and allowing his aching body to heal as best it could. He’d always been a terrible patient but this was one of the hardest things he’d ever done: sitting still and doing absolutely nothing, all the while knowing that the peace and quiet couldn’t last. Sooner or later he’d have to move—he’d have to fight—and he desperately wanted to test his limits before he was thrown back into the deep end. Neither he nor Lilith spoke their fears aloud, but they were both thinking the same thing. 

If he went into the arena like this, he wasn’t walking back out of it. 

_At least I’d leave a feckin’ beautiful corpse._

Right now, he was sitting against the back wall of his cell, arms folded across his knees and his forehead resting on his crossed wrists. The bullet-wound in his side had thankfully stopped bleeding; that was something at least. He was incredibly lucky it had just been a clip and not a deeper injury. Still, that was about all he felt lucky about. Dull, sickening pain emanated from his head while the rest of his body ached with a hundred bruises and scrapes. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Lilith work through a series of stretches, trying to get her aching muscles back to something resembling their normal flexibility. He was glad she was still able to find the motivation to do _something_ , even if she wasn’t likely to get the chance to actually use it anytime soon. The Calypsos had taken almost everything from her: her friends, her powers, her freedom. The one thing they’d never be able to take was her strength. 

She let out a small noise of discomfort and shook out her shoulders after a particularly punishing stretch, then looked over at him. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

 _Like absolute hell, but she already knows that. No point makin’ her feel worse about it._ He turned his head to look at her properly. Her face swam half out of focus and he blinked. “I'm fine.” 

She scoffed lightly, clearly not buying it. “Maybe you should get some more sleep?” 

He shrugged, then winced as it aggravated the bruising across his back. “Slept for ages already.” 

_‘Sides, I’d rather be awake when they come for me. I wanna look the reaper in the eye before he takes his cut._

She raised her eyebrows. “Ages? You got maybe six hours.” 

“‘Zactly! That’s two...twice what I norm’ly get.” _Wait, that came out wrong._ “Shite.” He frowned. Why was it so hard to get the right words?

Lilith was watching him with worry written all over her face. He concentrated on enunciating as clearly as he could, forcing a rueful smile. “Sound like I’ve been hittin’ the whiskey, don’t I?”

“Just a bit,” she replied with a smile just as forced as his. “Get some sleep.” 

He might be a stubborn bastard, but he knew when it was time to concede. “That‘n order? Well then… Aye, Commander.” He gave her a wry smile and moved carefully to lie on his side, grimacing as the change in position made the bars in front of his eyes sway crazily. 

He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the sadness in her voice as she said, “Don’t call me that. I’m nobody’s Commander, not anymore.” 

“Not true,” he murmured, closing his eyes to get rid of the swaying and struggling to open them again. When had he got so tired? 

* * *

He drifted for a while, not really asleep but not fully awake either. His headache slowly receded from a roaring in his ears to a more bearable hum, his aching limbs grateful for a chance to properly relax, even on the cold metal floor of his cell. It was rather soothing to just _be_. Just exist for a while, without any demands being made of him. 

_Should’a known it was too good to last, boyo._

If he hadn’t heard Lilith curse, he might have thought the footsteps getting louder in the distance were just his headache making a percussive reappearance. “You gotta be feckin’ kidding me...” he moaned. 

“Zane, don’t, it’s not worth—” 

But he’d already started moving, shifting his weight onto his elbow and heaving himself up against the wall. The couple of hours’ rest seemed to have done him some good, since he only felt dizzy rather than overwhelmingly nauseous at the shift from horizontal to vertical. His headache was returning with a vengeance but at least he wouldn't be grovelling on the floor when today's torments were dished out. _Call me a fool, but I’ve still got my pride._

When he looked to the side, he saw that Lilith was staring at him in disbelief. “You might actually be the most stubborn idiot I’ve ever met, you know that?” 

He gave her a weak, wry smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Lilith just shook her head, but he could see her fighting back a smile of her own. She didn’t get the chance to say anything more, as the door swung open and none other than Tyreen herself swaggered in, this time alone. It was odd seeing her without her brother or an entourage of cronies; she seemed smaller, somehow. 

“Sup, losers! Just thought I’d stop by and check if you’d died on us.” She walked across to stand in front of Zane’s cell. “You were in pretty bad shape out there, man. Honestly thought you were a goner.” 

Clenching his jaw, he raised his head slowly and met her eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, darlin’.” 

Tyreen laughed in delight. “Oh, you are fantastic!" 

“You got some kinda point you’re tryin’ to make?” he asked, his voice rough and strained. “Or d’you just love the sound o' your own voice? Cos honestly, I can't tell." 

She leaned in closer to the bars, pouting in mock sympathy. “You’re really messed up, aren’t you? You don’t even sound quite right. Bet your head hurts like _fuck_ right now, huh? Wonder what'll happen if I do this.” Raising one hand, she tapped the stud on the back of her glove hard against the bars, making a repetitive high-pitched ‘ting’ sound. 

Every tap was like a shard of glass being pushed into his brain. Pride be damned, it was _agony._ He squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head slightly as he took deep breaths and fiercely resisted the temptation to curl into a ball and weep. 

“Stop it!” Lilith snarled. “Haven’t you done enough?”

The infernal tapping stopped. Zane kept his eyes shut for a few more moments, willing the pain to settle down again. Vaguely, he heard Tyreen speak again, but he had to concentrate to understand the words. 

“...alive because you’re useful to me. Both of you should be fucking _thanking me_.” 

“If you want to keep him alive for your...your shows,” Lilith persisted, gritting out the last word, “then don’t make him fight today. He needs time.” 

“He seems okay to me. Isn’t that right, champ?” She raised her voice slightly and he could tell from the sound that she’d turned back to face him. He gritted his teeth, forcing his eyes open. Tyreen’s smug face swam in and out of focus as she made a triumphant gesture with both hands. “See?”

“If you send him out there, he’ll _die_.” The way Lilith’s voice broke on the last word made Zane’s blood boil. He never wanted to hear Lilith sound like that again—especially not to Tyreen fucking Calypso. 

Tyreen scowled, throwing up one of her hands. A flash of purplish-blue light filled the room, blinding Zane for a moment. When his vision cleared, he saw with horror that Lilith was pressed against the bars at the front of the cell, Tyreen’s hand tight around her throat. For one heartstopping moment, it wasn’t Lilith hanging in her grip but Maya, disintegrating before his eyes. He blinked and it was Lilith again, whole and unharmed but clearly terrified. Her eyes went wide and he saw Tyreen’s knuckles pale as she tightened her grip. 

_Gods, no, not again… Please!_ He drew a breath to say something, anything, but Tyreen was already speaking. 

"I'm sorry, did I miss something? I was under the impression that _I_ made the rules around here. You might have been some hotshot commander once, but you’re _nothing_ now, Firehawk. It’s time you learned that.” She threw Zane a scornful glance, then leaned in close to Lilith’s face. “If I say he’ll fight, then he’ll fight. If he dies…” She pulled a mock sad face and traced an imaginary tear down her cheek, then snapped back to her usual smirk. “Boo fucking hoo.” She flung Lilith backwards away from her, sending her slamming into the solid steel of the back wall with a ‘thud’. Lilith crumpled to the floor, barely catching herself with one hand before she landed face-first, her other hand clutching at her throat. Without missing a beat, Tyreen turned on her heel and headed for the door. "Later, bitches!" 

Zane ignored the way his headache spiked as the door slammed shut, hauling himself across to the bars separating the cells. “Lil? Lilith!” He pushed an arm through the bars but he couldn’t quite reach her. “Say somethin’. You okay?.” 

“Ugh…” She groaned and pushed herself up into a sitting position against the wall, one hand still gingerly touching her throat. “Yeah… I’m alright.” Her voice sounded rough and painful as she spoke. 

“You sure? You hit that wall pretty hard.” He felt a flood of anger as he saw fingermark-shaped bruises were already starting to form around her neck. 

She nodded, then winced. “Ouch. Yeah, I’m alright. I—It just…” She trailed off, biting her lip but he could see the words she didn’t say written plain all over her face.

_It reminded her of Maya too. She thought it was the end. Oh, Lil._

For the next few minutes, neither of them spoke. In the silence, his headache gradually began to return to its previous state of dull thumping. It was unpleasantly reminiscent of many past hangovers, though usually he'd recovered from those in more comfortable circumstances, having had significantly more fun beforehand. 

_Feck, I’d do almost anythin’ for a shot o’ whiskey right now. I’d even settle for one o’ Moxxi’s hideous cocktails._

“I know the feeling.” 

He hadn’t realised he’d been speaking aloud. “First thing after we get out o’ here, yeah?” 

“Deal.” Lilith sighed. “Honestly, right now I’d settle for some _water._ ”

He fervently agreed. With his headache calming down again, he was able to pay more attention to the other discomforts assailing his body, chief among which was a horrendous thirst. The rations of water they got were barely enough to keep them going at the best of times. If he was going to recover enough to not get his devilishly handsome arse handed to him in the next fight… 

He swallowed painfully. _I don't think you're winnin’ the next one, Zane._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tensions rise and Lilith pokes the proverbial hornet’s nest. 

_It’s been two days. Why haven’t they done anything?_

Lilith sat with her back pressed against the cold metal of the wall, looking into the middle distance with her chin resting on her knuckles. The silence was absolute, without even the hum of a camera drone or the distant sound of gunfire. She refused to believe that it was possible that Tyreen had actually listened to her plea to give Zane more recovery time, but what other reason could there be for their inaction? 

_This doesn’t make sense._

Glancing to her right, she saw that Zane had shifted slightly, from sitting upright against the wall to leaning forward with his arms folded across his knees, his head resting on his arms. He was facing away from her so she couldn’t tell if he was just sitting or if he had fallen asleep again. He’d been getting tired a lot since his injury. It worried her. Just another worry among a million other things that preyed on her mind. 

The tension was unbearable. As much as she knew they should be grateful for the reprieve, all she could think about was how terrible it was going to be when the hammer finally came down. In these conditions, no amount of rest was going to be enough to keep him alive when they sent him back out there. 

She could almost hear how offended he would be if she said any of that out loud. _Ye of little faith! As if a tiny thing like this is gonna keep me from kicking some psycho arse!_

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. _Yep. Sounds about right_. 

Having recently had a lot of time to think it over, she’d been surprised to find herself rather sanguine about what would happen to her if he didn’t survive. From the beginning the Calypsos had made it very clear that if he died, she was no use to them anymore

 _no use to anyone_ _anymore_

but now she was starting to wonder if that would be such a bad thing. Not that she _wanted_ to die of course, far from it, but imagining a life for herself, alone in this place with nothing but Troy’s inventive tortures and her own mind for company… 

_No. I’d rather die._

Now she supposed that the best they could hope for was that it would be quick for the both of them, though that was probably too much to ask for. At the very least, she hoped it was quick for Zane. He’d suffered enough on her account. 

As if thinking about him had somehow caught his attention, he fidgeted and turned his head to look at her, still resting the weight of it on his arms. “…Lil?”

“Yeah?” 

He gave her a small smile. “You okay? Heard...talkin’. First sign o’ madness, you know.” 

Lilith hadn’t realised she’d spoken aloud. “Says the man who has held entire conversations with a hologram of himself,” she deflected, raising her eyebrows. “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you do it.” 

“Well…” He smiled ruefully. “They’re a bit one-sided. And don’t change the subject.”

 _Dammit_. Lilith sighed. “I’m fine.” _Ugh, I even hate the word when I say it._

He didn’t look convinced but didn’t press the issue either, just looking at her for another few seconds before turning his head away, resting his forehead on his crossed arms. Just as she was wondering if he’d gone back to sleep, he spoke again. “What d’you reckon they’re waitin’ for?”

“No idea. Can’t be good, whatever it is.” 

“Agreed.” He heaved a sigh, wincing slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad o’ the chance to recuperate a little, but…” He trailed off, then added, “Always hated the waitin’.”

“Me too.” 

"Reckon somethin's happened?" His tone was casual but Lilith could hear the tension in his voice. 

"Maybe. What could keep their attention for this long?" Her blood ran cold. "You don't think they've—" 

"No," he cut her off sharply. "No, if they'd caught the others, we'd know. Can you imagine Ellie or Moze or Amara goin' quietly? We'd hear the screamin' halfway round Pandora." 

"They got us," she said softly, looking down at her hands where they were clenched together in her lap. 

He raised his head at that. When she looked back at him she was surprised by the anger in his eyes. "When are you gonna stop doin' this? Don't do their work for them by torturin' yourself, Lilith!" 

"Easy for you to say," she snapped, the ever-present self-loathing sharpening her fraying temper. "Do you have any idea what this feels like? I've spent _seven years_ sending people to their deaths. Seven years wondering if I'm _ever_ making the right call. And even now it's all over, now everything's fallen apart, it's still fucking happening!" 

"It's not your call to make!" he snapped back. "Shite, Lilith, we've been over this!" 

"Well whose is it, then?" she demanded. "You insist on calling me _commander_ but you won't accept—" 

"It's mine!" The echo of his shout bounced around the room for a few seconds, before he continued in a lower tone, his hard eyes boring into hers. "Weren't you listenin' to all that shite I said the other day? _I'm_ makin' the call on this one." 

"But—" 

"No. I told you before, I'm choosin' to do this. Sure, I could make it so much easier and just refuse. They'd kill us, but at least it'd be over, eh?" The immense weight of sarcasm in his voice made her flinch as he continued, turning his gaze up to the ceiling. "In fact, why not? Next time they drag me up there, I'll just sit meself down and wait for death." 

She stared at him, her sudden burst of rage burnt out in the wake of his venomous tirade. Before she could speak, he continued, quieter now but still edged with anger. 

"Feck's sake, Lilith, why do you think I'm doin' this? Why d'you think I keep goin', after everything they've done? It's not just for you, or Maya, or any o’ them. I'm not so selfless as all that." He looked back at her, his expression still hard. "I've spent most o' my life fighting to get out from under someone else's boot heel. Every time I think I'm free, another one comes down. It'd be so easy to give up, but if I do that it's over. Givin' up means they've won and I-I can't have that." 

She caught the slight stammer and frowned, noticing with concern that he'd gone suddenly pale. One of his hands rose to the side of his head and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. "Hey...you okay?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine." He lowered his hand again and opened his eyes. "I don't want to keep havin' this argument, Lilith. If you want someone to blame for this," he waved his hand vaguely at his head, then at his side where blood stained his shirt, "then blame _me_ for not bein' quick enough. Or blame the bastards keepin' us here. Don't make it easy for them to hurt you by hurtin' yourself." 

He shuffled closer and reached a hand through the bars. She looked down at it, then gave a sigh and took it. He squeezed her fingers reassuringly, all traces of anger gone from his eyes as he spoke with calm confidence.

"Way I see it, we got two options, yeah? We can roll over and die, or we can stand up and take the fight to them. I know which one I prefer." He smiled sadly, before his expression hardened again, this time with determination. "And if the worst should happen and we don't make it, we'll go out with such a bang they'll feel it on Promethea." 

She felt her eyes prickle and looked away, but didn't let go of his hand. If he noticed her tears, he was tactful enough not to comment. 

_I don't want either of us to die. I've seen enough of that. But… I'm so glad I'm not alone._

Clap. Clap. Clap. 

"...Wow. That was _inspiring,_ Vault Thief!" 

* * *

The door hadn't even fully opened before Tyreen's voice cut through the silence, along with the sound of sarcastic slow clapping. That was Troy's contribution as he sloped into the room behind his sister, followed by two of their favourite armoured enforcers. Zane let go of Lilith's hand and pulled his arm back as soon as he realised they weren't alone. No sense in giving them more ammunition. 

"You've got a real way with words, Superfan." Tyreen raised her eyebrows in mock admiration. "Should've put you on our PR team."

"Nah, I'm shite with people," Zane shot back. "'Specially yours. Can't seem to stop killin' them." 

Far from being offended, she just smiled wider. Behind her, Troy snickered as if he'd just told a hilarious joke. Zane felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and wondered—not for the first time—just what had happened to fuck these kids up so badly. Even he had more respect for life than they did and he’d been ending lives since before they were born. 

"How's your head?" Tyreen asked with mock sincerity, then dropped the expression for her customary bored look. "Don't tell me, I don't actually care. It’s just something people say, I think?”

“Vacation’s over. We got something special for you, Vault Thief.” Troy grinned. 

“Oh, yeah?” Zane pushed himself to his feet, pleased to find that he didn’t feel as dizzy as he had yesterday. He’d still need to be careful not to lose his balance but he could stand and he could move: two major improvements. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not overjoyed at the prospect.” 

“So ungrateful! And after all the effort we went to.” Tyreen tutted and unlocked his cell, signalling to the enforcers, who stepped forward. 

“No need, I’m comin’,” Zane snapped, pushing the cell door open and stepping out. They grabbed him anyway and he winced as they held his already bruised arms in a vice-like grip. He caught Lilith’s eye and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, though it felt more like a grimace from where he was standing. 

Tyreen led the way back out into the corridor, waving imperiously at the few fanatics who appeared in doorways along each side, shrieking in adulation at the sight of their ‘God-queen’ up close. Their blind devotion was sickening, though Zane supposed it was only fitting that Pandora’s signature breed of lunatic would follow the biggest pair of lunatics the galaxy had ever seen. 

It wasn’t until they’d almost reached the other end of the long corridor that he realised Troy hadn’t followed them.

* * *

Lilith watched apprehensively as Troy set up a camera drone, which hovered in the air above his left shoulder and projected her image onto the screen behind them. “Smile for the camera, Firehawk!” he sneered. 

“Aren’t you gonna miss the fun, staying down here?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. _Please, just go. Just leave._

He laughed. “Nah, I can catch up on that. We record everything. Besides…” He stepped sharply up to the bars and grinned at her involuntary flinch. “Don’t you remember how much fun we had last time? I sure do.” 

The drone fizzled and sparked for a moment, dipping slightly before rising back to shoulder height. Troy glanced at it in irritation and cursed. “For fucks’s sake… Ty, I’m gonna need a minute. Drone’s still playing up.” 

_“Whatever, just fix it! You’ve got five minutes before we start, so get it done.”_

Troy made a face at the camera and tapped out a series of commands on his Echo. The drone folded itself up and sank to the floor, inert. “Fucking useless,” he muttered, still typing. 

_What the hell?_ This was so unlike his usual onscreen persona that Lilith felt a sudden inexplicable burst of inappropriate laughter bubbling up. Clamping her lips tight shut, she watched with growing amusement as he glared at the device in his hand, muttering more curses under his breath. 

_I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t, but…_

_Fuck it._

“Performance issues?” she asked innocently. 

Troy looked up angrily, jaw visibly clenching. “Shut the fuck up.” 

Lips curling into a barely-suppressed smirk, she said primly, “Nothing to be ashamed of, you know. A lot of men have—” 

“I said, _shut up_!” 

It was too much. His furious scowl, paired with the ridiculous mental images her brain kept pulling out of nowhere… One laugh escaped, followed by another, then another until she was shaking with it, one hand pressed to her mouth and tears pricking at her eyes. What had started as mild amusement was now threatening to spill over into hysteria. She needed to get herself under control before he—

 _Clang_. 

She froze, the laughter dying in her throat as her body tensed in horrible anticipation for the shock…which didn’t come. Frowning, she blinked and looked up. He was standing in front of her cell, the camera drone lying forgotten on the floor behind him and his metal hand clenched so tightly around two of the bars that they were bending slightly. As her gaze met his, she saw raw hatred in his eyes and felt a chill run down her spine. 

“You’re going to pay for that.” 

* * *

_More feckin’ waitin'. Never thought I’d be sayin’ this, but can we please just get this over with?_

Zane stood with his back against the wall, arms folded as he glared at the two enforcers holding him at gunpoint. A third emerged from the nearest doorway and tossed him his jacket and gloves. He slipped the jacket on and assessed the state of the gloves, grimacing when he saw that they were still crusted with dried blood from the last fight. The buttons should still work fine though; he’d made the devices himself and designed them to operate in anything from a bloodbath to a rain shower. Still, he’d feel better when he could check properly. 

_Hah. Small chance of that with these idiots around._

No; he had to hope that whatever they threw at him next, he’d have a chance to test his gear before it was needed to keep him alive. 

The door slammed shut and he winced as the sound reverberated through his aching head. The pain had stayed at a fairly low level while he was waiting in the quiet of the tunnel, but he was dreading the moment when he was finally shoved through the gates at the far end. 

From what he could hear of Tyreen’s announcements, it seemed the live-stream from the cells was somehow not working, so the masses were being entertained with clips from previous streams instead. He barely understood half of what she said— _I don’t even wanna know what exactly a ‘Let’s Flay’ is_ —but he’d gathered enough to feel a horribly familiar sense of growing dread. Things had...escalated, every time he’d been sent up here. What the hell was he in for this time? 

Something else was bothering him too. _Those cameras have been off an awfully long time. If he’s done somethin’ to her, I’ll…_

_What? What exactly are you gonna do, hmm? Cuss them to death?_

Closing his eyes briefly, he fervently wished that he believed in anything he could pray to. 

Tyreen’s voice echoed loudly through the tunnel from the arena's speakers and he grimaced at the sudden increase in volume. _“Aaaand we’re back! About time, Troy.”_

_“Yeah, well. All fixed now. Let’s get this thing going!”_

Adjusting the fit of his gloves for the tenth time, Zane felt a bizarre rush of relief at hearing Troy’s voice. If the stream from the cells was back online, that meant he wasn’t torturing Lilith. 

_Isn’t_ still _torturing her, you mean_.

He growled under his breath. _Not helpin'._

_“Now, you know the drill, Superfan! This round’s got rules and you know who’ll pay the price if you break ‘em! Let’s take a closer look at her, shall we?”_

There was a roar from the crowd outside and he gritted his teeth, letting the rage build until it drowned out the pain and fear. That was the only way he’d get through this. Not blind rage—that would only make him reckless—but controlled, focused anger with an edge like a razor. 

Her next words nearly undid all of that.

_“Whoa, whoa, hold up. Troy, did you start without us?”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is more violence, much more cruelty and some difficult decisions to make. 
> 
> Also it’s nearly 1000 words longer than the last one, because apparently I don’t know when to stop. Enjoy!

_ "Having fun without us, Troy?"  _ Tyreen's voice—her usual on-screen persona—gave nothing away but Troy could tell she was annoyed. 

He glanced down at the prisoner lying unconscious behind the bars. "She pissed me off. Besides, she's fine. Look." 

Reaching through the bars, he grabbed her shoulder and shook her roughly. A moan of pain escaped her lips as she stirred, eyelids flickering. He looked back at the now functional camera drone with a grin. "See?" 

_ "Whatever. Just don't fucking kill her, okay? We still need her to make sure Superfan here does what he's told."  _

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He turned his back on the cell and watched with growing amusement as the cameras out in the arena circled the other Vault Thief, capturing every angle as he emerged from the tunnel. His expression of horror when he saw the state of his fellow prisoner onscreen had been beautiful to behold, but it was nothing compared to the moment he saw the ‘surprise’ they’d prepared for him.  _ Oh, I need to keep that for later.  _ Troy paused the feed and took a couple of still shots, then let the feed continue. 

_ "What, you don't like your gift?"  _ Tyreen cooed.  _ "But we got them just for you, Vault Thief! I would say we wrapped them up specially, but, well,  _ un _ wrapped is probably more accurate."  _

A rustle behind Troy told him the Firehawk was waking up, but he ignored her. She wouldn't be able to move for a while and even if she could, she'd almost certainly injured herself with all that thrashing around. The sound she'd made when she smashed into the metal floor of her cage had been music to his ears. 

_ No need to tell Ty that I could have got the feed up a couple minutes sooner.  _

Another rustle, louder this time. He rolled his eyes, not bothering to look round at her. "Might as well rest up while you can, Firehawk. If your friend fucks up out there, we're starting over." 

The rustling stopped. His grin widened.  _ She’s finally learning her place.  _

* * *

Whatever he'd expected, whatever he'd mentally prepared for…it wasn't this. 

The arena was no longer just smooth sand, dotted with sections of low wall and storage crates. Now there were eight-foot tall posts sunk into the sand, at least twenty at a glance but he couldn't spare the attention to count them properly. And tied to each post… 

If the bright red of their shredded combat gear wasn't enough of a clue, the helmets mounted on the top of the posts like some kind of twisted memorial definitely were. He'd thought the Crimson Raiders all gone, either dead or in hiding. 

It seemed he'd been wrong. 

Sparing another glance to the screen above, where he could see Lilith stirring feebly, he tore his eyes away and clenched his hands tightly into fists. Now he knew why they hadn't dragged him out for two days. Of course it was too much to hope that they were just giving him time to recover. 

They'd needed the time to set up this horror show. 

Half of the figures tied to the posts seemed to be unconscious, hanging limply in their ropes with heads slumped forwards. As he looked more closely, he saw with a flash of anger and revulsion that all of them had been partially  _ flayed, _ some to a greater extent than others. The red, exposed patches of flesh blended in with the red of their uniforms but now he'd seen them he couldn't look away. Arms, legs, patches of chest and abdomen… Even a few  _ faces _ hadn't escaped the barbaric treatment. It was a wonder they hadn’t bled out and died already. 

_ Cauterised maybe,  _ he thought numbly. The clinical observation came automatically, his training kicking in while his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. 

"V-Vault…Hun...ter?" 

He froze, then turned and met the gaze of the man tied to the post closest to him. He didn't recognise him but then he'd met a lot of Raiders since he'd signed up himself. It wasn't surprising that they recognised  _ him _ ; he and the other Hunters weren't exactly inconspicuous. 

"Help...us..." the man rasped, his voice hoarse from what Zane suspected was prolonged screaming. "Pl-Please…" 

_ Fecking HELL. I’d take another three fights like the last one over somethin’ like this. But o’ course, those lunatics know that. _

He took a breath and let it out sharply through his nose. “I’ll do what I can,” he said quietly.  _ For all the good that’ll do ‘em. I’m as much a prisoner as they are.  _

He turned to face the podium and raised his voice, his shock and anger doing wonders to tamp down the pain of his headache. “What the hell is this, Tyreen?” 

“We thought you’d earned a break, since you had such a hard time in the last fight.” She smiled sweetly. “No explosions, no bullets. They can’t even run away. Easy peasy.” 

For a moment, he stared at her. Then the penny dropped. _Wait, what?_ _You want me to…_

_No._ No!  _ Not a fecking chance.  _

Tyreen tilted her head, trying for feigned sympathy but a giggle broke through. "Oh, Superfan… If you could see your face! I thought you'd be pleased! I'm not usually this generous, you know." 

"Generosity, is it? Interesting way of puttin’ it." He tilted his head, falling back on his usual sarcastic bravado to conceal how he really felt. No way in hell was he letting the Calypsos see the emotional turmoil they'd set boiling inside him. 

"Fuck, you'd think a renowned Vault Hunter would have better manners! Can you believe this guy?" The crowd roared its disapproval and she basked in the sound for a few seconds before returning her attention to him, pulling her Echo from her belt. “Here’s how it’s gonna be, Vault Thief. You’re gonna do as you’re told, like a good little slave.” 

Zane clenched his jaw, raising his chin. “And if I don’t?”

She laughed delightedly. “Oh, I was  _ so _ hoping you’d say that.” 

A gate opened and three skags bounded out onto the sand, two adults and a pup. They paused for a brief moment, sniffing the air, then spotted the captives and roared, charging toward them. 

“And don’t take too long now, ‘cause there’s way more where these came from!” 

As soon as the gate had clanged open, Zane had already tapped the button to release SNTNL, feeling a wave of relief when it worked perfectly. The little drone zoomed towards the approaching beasts while he moved to stand between the skags and the captive Raiders, activating his Digiclaws. 

_ Oh, I wish I had a gun. I really hate these feckin’ things _ . 

The pup was frozen solid and shattered under a hail of SNTNL’s cryo-augmented bullets before it could even get close. Sadly, the same could not be said for the adults. 

Zane ducked a swipe of razor-sharp claws and returned one of his own, slashing across the beast’s neck, though he doubted he’d done much damage to its armoured hide. It roared furiously and leapt away, but he couldn’t spare it much attention as the other one bore down on him, its triple-hinged jaw open wide to reveal several sets of vicious barbs, intent on tearing his flesh from his bones. He struck it hard in the side of the head with a fist, blades puncturing an eye and sending it staggering sideways. 

“Not bad, Vault Thief!” Tyreen’s mocking tones echoed over the speakers. 

He ignored her, keeping his eyes on the skag rolling across the sand while he took a brief inventory of his own condition. His head was pounding but the debilitating dizziness he’d expected hadn’t made an appearance yet. That was a pleasant surprise. Better still, his balance seemed to have improved, though he still needed to be careful he didn’t overcompensate. He couldn’t afford to get cocky though: once the adrenaline wore off, he’d probably be exhausted to the point of passing out. He needed to finish here and get back to the relative safety of his cell before that happened. 

The skag whined and raked at its injured eye with one paw, allowing him a moment to check on the other one. To his relief (and slight surprise) it had collapsed onto the floor, legs twitching feebly as blood poured from a deep slash across its neck.  _ Well now. About time we had a stroke o’ luck. Nice work, Zane boy.  _

The other skag had recovered somewhat and was circling cautiously, but he refused to let it get between him and the captives tied to the posts. “Come on, Fido,” he murmured, stepping carefully to avoid tripping himself up as he continued to circle the beast. “Come and get me. I won’t bite.” 

It snarled, prowling closer before leaping cautiously away again when he stepped forward. He growled under his breath and flexed his fingers slowly, his knuckles cracking one by one.  _ Of all the times to meet a skag with a sense of self-preservation! I don’t have the energy to chase the bloody thing around all day… _

_ Alright then. Time to play it smart.  _

He took a step back and staggered slightly, letting his blades drop a little. The skag turned its head from side to side, looking at him, and took a tentative step forward. Zane resisted the urge to grin and staggered again, using the movement as an excuse to ‘accidentally’ slice his palm on one of his blades. 

_ Come on, smell the blood. Look, I’m vulnerable. Come and get me. _

When the skag started to sniff the air, he allowed himself a tiny smile of victory and waited, closing his hand into a fist and letting the blood drip through his fingers. “Come on,” he muttered. “You know you want—”

Before he could even finish the sentence, the skag was airborne, leaping at him with its jaws open and ready to bite. 

* * *

“...not getting off that easy. Wake the fuck up.” 

Pulled from the painless dark fog of unconsciousness, she groaned softly as sensation began to return. First came a horrible tightness around her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She gasped for air and tried to move, to somehow get away from the horrible crushing tightness. With that attempt came fierce, cramping pain, too widespread to pinpoint where it hurt most. Her lungs burned for air but her muscles wouldn’t relax enough for her to draw a full breath. 

“There you are. Welcome back, Firehawk.” 

His voice was suddenly, terrifyingly close and she froze, whimpering as fresh cramps and spasms wracked her muscles. Opening her eyes, she blinked and the figure of Troy leaning against the cell’s bars swam into focus, tossing a tiny Phaselock orb into the air and catching it in one hand. 

“I have to say, you make a great test subject. I’m learning so much about my new powers!” 

_ They’re not yours! _ she wanted to scream, her eyes prickling with anger and frustration but she squeezed them shut before the tears could fall. It was bad enough that he could physically hurt her whenever he felt like it. The last thing she wanted to do was let him know he’d got to her emotionally as well. 

“Oh, I don’t think so. You’ve slept enough.” 

She heard him move and flinched away before he could grab her shoulder and shake her again. Opening her eyes, she glared at him, but his grin just widened at her impotent rage. 

“What, nothing? You had plenty to say earlier!” 

Quick as a snake, he reached through the bars and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her towards the front of the cell. She yelped and tried to twist away but her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Dragging her across the floor, he pulled her against the bars so she was facing the screen. "I want you to watch this." 

She closed her eyes. Whatever fresh hell they'd concocted this time, she didn't want to know. She was tired of feeling that sickening cocktail of horror, fear and rage. 

"I  _ said _ , watch!" He shook her roughly by the hair and she yelped again, feeling the sting of some of her hair parting company with her scalp. 

_ I should refuse. I should fight back. I should be stronger than this.  _

But she couldn’t do it. She didn't want to hurt anymore. Hating herself more than anything in that moment, she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred by tears of pain but she blinked them away and looked out between the bars at the screen. 

For a moment, she almost relaxed as she saw Zane put down a skag with a swipe of his blades. That was fine. Well, not  _ fine  _ but not the hideous cruelty she'd expected. 

Then the camera panned out to show the whole arena and her blood turned to ice. 

She wished she'd kept her eyes closed and taken the torture instead. 

* * *

There were too many. For every one he killed, there were three more. 

To make matters even worse, the last pack of skags to be released into the arena had included a spitter, of the corrosive variety no less. Zane couldn’t think of a worse opponent to be pitted against in a fight where he had no ranged weapons of his own. His clone and SNTNL were holding their own—for now—but they weren’t going to last forever. Sooner or later they’d have to reset and that took time, precious minutes he didn’t have to spare. 

As if it had heard his despairing thoughts, the clone exploded. The shock nova it released on deactivation scattered the pups that had been gnawing at its legs, its last grenade finishing them off. That just left… 

His heart sank as he realised just how many there were left to deal with. If he was on his own with nobody else to worry about, he reckoned he’d (probably) manage fine, but there was no way he’d be able to keep this many skags off the injured Raiders as well as keeping himself alive. If they hadn’t been in such a sorry state, he’d have cut them down and enlisted their help, but as it was—

A scream from behind him made him spin.  _ Shite. _

A sudden ranged attack from the corrosive skag had hit one of the raiders, dousing his legs and part of his torso with potent acid. Zane’s stomach clenched as he saw how much damage had already been done even in a couple of seconds. 

_ Third degree acid burns, shock, feck ton o’ pain,  _ his mind offered helpfully _.  _ _ Th _ _ is one's a goner, boyo.  _

Before he could think too hard about it, he sent SNTNL to keep the skags busy while he darted across the sand to get to the post where the man writhed and screamed in his chains, his acid-drenched flesh audibly hissing as it melted away. “I’m sorry,” Zane murmured, using one hand to firmly push the man’s head down towards his chest and sinking his blades swiftly into the back of the man’s neck just below his skull, killing him instantly. 

“ _Daaamn_ , Superfan, that was cold! Wasn't he a friend of yours?” Tyreen’s voice echoed across the arena, freezing him where he stood. Blood dripped from the tips of his claws as he stared unblinking at the dead man in front of him. 

_ I did the right thing there. Didn't I?  _

The words felt bitter and wrong as soon as he thought them.  _ No. Should've been faster, protected them better.  _ That  _ would've been the right thing.  _

He was torn from his thoughts as the corrosive skag roared and circled round for another attack, the others hanging back behind it as if it were their alpha. For all he knew, it was; the complexities of animal behaviour had never been his forte. Zane bared his teeth in a snarl and hammered the button to direct SNTNL's fire towards the beast. It zoomed closer, hovering over his head as it fired off a volley of shots. The augmented bullets coated the animal in frost and slowed it slightly, before the drone fizzled out of existence, leaving only a bouncing grenade in its wake. 

"Feckin' hell…" 

In one movement, he caught the live grenade mid-bounce and threw it hard towards the approaching skag, just as it reared up with its mouth open, ready to release another acid attack. The grenade landed squarely in its gaping maw and Zane flung up a hand to shield his eyes as it exploded, splattering the area around it with chunks of flesh and a hideous mixture of blood and greenish acid, which smoked as it hit the sand. 

In a better, less fucked-up time, he might have laughed or even whooped in delight at the results. As it was, he barely had the time or capacity to feel relieved at the tiny victory. At least the explosive death of the corrosive skag seemed to put the others on their guard; it gave him a moment to breathe and try to make a plan. 

_ Hah. Plan? Good one, Zane.  _

Sudden burning pain seared the back of his right hand and he cursed, looking down to see that his glove had been caught by a splash of the skag's corrosive blood. "Oh, hell!" Ripping it off, he was relieved to see his hand had escaped the worst of the damage, though he'd likely end up with another interesting scar. The glove, however, was utterly ruined. The leather was already falling through his fingers in pieces, but that wasn't the real problem. The circuitry that enabled his Digiclone was irreparably damaged, melted almost to nothing, and the tiny digistruct modules that generated his claws were fizzling in a decidedly worrying manner. The claws themselves had already disintegrated and were showing no signs of reforming. 

_ Well, shite.  _

He couldn't bring himself to just throw it away, despite it being essentially useless now. It had been an integral part of his equipment for years!  _ Guess it's gonna be a while before I'll see that handsome blue devil again…  _ Leaning down under the pretext of picking up a rock—more of a ranged distraction than a ranged weapon, but better than nothing—he slid the remaining fragments of gadgetry down the side of his boot. It was unlikely he'd actually get the chance to look at them, let alone repair them, but old habits died hard. 

That left him with one set of blades and—in about sixty seconds—his SNTNL drone, to keep himself alive  _ and  _ keep the Raiders from being eaten alive. 

Oh, and a rock. He bounced it in his hand, ignoring the stinging pain of the mild acid burn. 

He’d worked with less. 

It still wouldn’t be enough. 

* * *

Tyreen couldn't believe it. He'd done it, he’d actually done it. He'd killed his own ally. 

Granted, the Raider was dying anyway—pretty horribly too—but still! She'd expected the skags to pick off a few more before Flynt would realise he had no choice but to do what she wanted. 

She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled. There was something so delicious about having the infamous hitman-turned-Vault-Hunter Zane Flynt (yes, one of  _ those  _ Flynts) dancing to her tune. The circumstances were irrelevant—bottom line, she'd said 'kill' and he'd killed. That was what Troy didn't get. It wasn't really about Flynt, or the Raiders, or even the Firehawk. It was about showing the galaxy that the Calypsos had all the power. They were in control and it felt _good_. 

Opening her eyes, she watched as he killed another three skags, his movements starting to slow. It looked like he was getting tired; that or his injuries from before the fight were catching up with him. Either way, he wasn't quick enough to stop a second Raider, then a third, from becoming skag chow. Tyreen smirked at the look of horror on his face when the sound of crunching bones filled the arena and he realised he couldn't win this with just his blades and bravado. 

She glanced at the screen beside her and smiled wider at the sight of Troy holding the Firehawk by her hair, forcing her to watch as two more of her beloved soldiers died in agony. 

_ Wait, is she… Is she actually crying? Oh, that is priceless!  _

A roar of laughter echoed through the audience around the arena and she looked back down just in time to see yet another Raider get devoured, the Vault Thief unable to get there in time. The anger and self-recrimination on his face was  _ glorious _ to see . 

“Awwh, why so serious, Vault Thief? Where’s all that energy you showed us last time?” she called out, grinning as his furious gaze fixed on her for a moment before he had to turn and kick aside another skag pup, crushing its skull under his boot. She wrinkled her nose. They hadn’t intended for there to be such easy targets mixed into the group, but apparently the things bred like ratches even in captivity. 

The Crimson Morons were all screaming by this point, though she couldn’t quite tell if it was from pain or just terror that they’d be next in line.  _ Suppose it doesn’t matter all that much. They’re all gonna die anyway. Speaking of… _

She tapped out another command into her Echo and heard an answering clang as another gate opened, releasing the largest pack of skags yet. Watching the Vault Thief’s face, she smiled as his eyes shifted between the approaching pack and the prisoners. His eyes flicked from one enemy to the next, calculating the odds. She saw his expression shift from anger to weary resignation, before going blank. 

Completely blank. 

_ What the hell?  _

“You still with us, Superfan?” 

He closed his eyes and she wondered for a moment if his head injury had got the better of him. It  _ had  _ only been a couple of days, after all.  _ Fuck, what a boring way to die.  _

Then he moved. 

Her eyes widened.  _ Holy shit.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it obvious that I really hate skags? I am an animal person, believe it or not, but I draw the line at those things. They’re just nasty. 
> 
> Here are some of the ‘others’ you asked about, Sapphir_the_Angel_of_Blues! I couldn’t say much in my message without giving too much away :-) I know you also meant the other VHs and I can't answer that yet, but all will be revealed... *vanishes mysteriously in a puff of smoke*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I gave my chapters titles, this one would probably be called something dramatic like 'Aftermath'. 

He blinked. 

The arena was silent, apart from a soft pattering that sounded like rain. 

Nothing moved. 

Dimly, he became aware of a dull persistent pain, thumping through his skull like an anvil hammer. It felt oddly far away but grew closer and more intense with each thump. His chest burned and he realised suddenly that he was gasping for air like a drowning man. His heartbeat sounded like a war drum in his ears, though he could also hear an odd, higher-pitched noise at the edge of his hearing. As awareness of his surroundings trickled back, he realised it was the sound of cheering. 

"...incredible, Superfan! Didn't know you had it in you, but then again… you  _ are  _ a Flynt." 

He blinked again. Tyreen was still talking but he didn’t hear a word she said. Glancing down at himself, he was surprised to see he was covered from head to foot in blood. He frowned.  _ When did I— _

Memory slammed back in with the force of a guided missile. 

_ Oh… Oh feckin' hell…  _

Gritting his teeth, he turned and forced himself to look behind him. The sand was red with blood, not just sprays or drops but pools of the stuff. The arena was littered with the bodies of dead or dying skags, some he'd killed quickly and others still bleeding out or incapacitated through grievous injury. He couldn't care less about them right now. His eyes were locked on the twenty-or-so Crimson Raiders still tied to their posts. 

The twenty-or-so  _ dead  _ Crimson Raiders. 

_ —side of the neck, stab and slice through to the front, turn, stab through the heart between the ribs, turn, back of the neck where the brain meets the spine, stab twice just to make sure, turn, grip the head with both hands, twist and wrench to snap the neck and sever the _ —

He swallowed hard, somehow managing to avoid being violently sick. The floor tilted crazily under him and he closed his eyes. 

It had been a long time since he'd last allowed himself to ‘switch off’ like that. It had been a useful tool once, just another weapon in his arsenal (he was pretty sure that was when the bandits had begun calling him "Deathbringer") and probably the main reason he’d excelled at his training, but these days he did everything he could to keep that little feature of his psyche locked firmly away. It was bad enough that he'd inherited his own variation on the Flynts' signature brand of crazy. He didn't need the whole galaxy seeing it on camera. 

_ Too late for that, boyo. Still, kinder than leavin’ them to the skags, right? _

He wished he could believe that. 

Opening his eyes, he kept them low as he turned away from the corpses before raising his head. A flicker of movement caught his eyes and he saw a brief glimpse of Lilith’s pale face on one of the screens before she turned away from the camera. He hadn’t been able to make out her expression with his weary eyes but he could imagine it clearly enough. He'd seen it too many times before, on the faces of enemies and allies alike: fear, condemnation, disgust. There had been a time when he'd seen it on his own face every time he looked in the mirror; even now he sometimes avoided his reflection, not sure what he’d see looking back at him. 

He supposed it had always only been a matter of time before he’d see it on hers. 

“Look alive, Vault Thief. Yoo hoo! You still in there?” 

He'd almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. Closing his eyes again for a long moment, he took a deep breath, then winced as a new, sharper pain made itself known. He looked down at himself and huffed a low mirthless laugh of disbelief. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me…” 

To say the bullet wound in his side had reopened would be an understatement. It would be more accurate to say it had been clawed open along with a significant portion of the skin across his ribs on that side, leaving him bleeding freely. He had no memory of receiving the injury but that was hardly surprising. The ground pitched under him again and he realised he now had another enemy to contend with: blood loss. 

_ Oh, this is absolutely  _ not  _ what I need right now.  _

As the adrenaline started to ebb away, the pain returned tenfold and he hissed through his teeth, his legs starting to shake under him. 

_ Don’t you fall now. Don’t you dare!  _

Shifting his gaze to the platform, he met Tyreen’s eyes without a word, clasping his right hand over his wounded side while he waited for the moment when she’d say he could leave. He had no energy left for showmanship or petty rebellion. He just wanted to stop. 

When she finally spoke, her words sounded like they came from a long way away before reaching his ears. "That was a hell of a show, Superfan! You’ve been holdin' out on us! Get him cleaned up and back to his cage. Oh, and someone give him some meds.” She smiled with absolutely no warmth whatsoever. “Don’t want our pet Vault Thief dying on us just yet! We got  _ big  _ plans for you, Superfan. After that little display, I’m startin’ to wonder if we’ve been making this too easy for you!” 

He was already moving before she’d finished speaking, walking unsteadily to the edge of the ring as the ground tilted beneath him again. The gate clanged open and he staggered off the uneven sand of the arena into the relative cool and quiet of the tunnel, numb fingers still clamped over his bleeding side, though it probably wasn’t helping much. Blackness pressed in around the edges of his vision and he stumbled, only avoiding falling on his face thanks to the enforcers waiting for him. They grabbed his arms and held him still while his jacket and gloves—well,  _ glove _ —were taken off him. 

“Hey, where’s the other one?” 

A huge fist grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him to eye level, his feet leaving the floor. He blinked owlishly, hanging in the enormous man’s grip like a ragdoll. When he didn’t answer immediately, the man shook him roughly. “Where is it?” 

“Dropped it,” he muttered, half-truthfully—he  _ had _ dropped half of it, after all. He couldn’t feel the broken remnants scratching at his calf inside his boot anymore but somehow it didn’t seem very important right now. 

The enforcer snarled and shook him again, but the other one smacked him on the arm. “The God-queen wants him alive, idiot. Besides, asshole’s telling the truth, I saw it.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“You fuck off! Don’t come crying to me if you’re next in line because you screwed up.” 

Zane felt the hand holding his shirt tighten slightly, its owner growling in frustration before lowering him back to the ground. He barely felt the change as his feet touched the concrete, his legs having lost all feeling, and was pathetically grateful when they caught his arms before he hit the floor. As the soft, inviting blackness pressed in closer, he blinked and wondered vaguely how much of the dark mess on the floor around his feet was dirt and how much was his blood, before his eyes finally closed and he fell into glorious, painless oblivion.

* * *

_ "Let's see that again, just one more time!"  _

The clip looped again, fifteen seconds of footage that would be at the forefront of Lilith's nightmares for probably the rest of her life…however long that turned out to be. She blinked slowly up at the ceiling, exhaustion and pain pressing down on her like a lead weight. 

Somewhere not far away, a door slammed and she twitched, closing her eyes and whimpering as the sudden movement made every muscle cramp painfully. There wasn't a single bit of her that didn't hurt. Between Troy's favourite shock torture and his newfound love for experimental Phaselocking, she'd been toyed with like a cat batting a mouse between its paws. She never thought she'd feel any sympathy for the bandits subjected to Maya's wrath on the battlefield, but being suffocated inside an energy ball over and over again had a way of shifting your perspective. 

The brightest spot of pain was her right shoulder: at some point during the torment she had twisted or landed on it somehow, hard enough to sprain it at the very least. If she was unlucky (and the odds were definitely against her on that) it might even be fractured, but she had no real way of telling. If Tannis were here, she’d—

_ Well, she’s not. She’s probably dead. Just like all the others are probably dead.  _

Just like the Raiders she’d watched die today. 

Slowly curling her fingers into fists, she squeezed hard enough that her nails bit painfully into her palms while her arm muscles twitched and spasmed painfully at the effort.  _ He had to. You know he had to. He had no choice.  _

It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told herself that. 

_ I knew them. I knew them all. Those were  _ our  _ people, and he _ — 

_ He killed them. Quickly and with probably far less pain than they would have endured otherwise, but…  _

She swallowed. Knowing that they’d suffered the lesser of two evils didn’t make their suffering any less  _ wrong _ . Did it? 

_ "...good little slave!"  _

She heard the clip repeat again, the awful exaggerated sound effects only embedding the images deeper in her mind. Tyreen's victorious smirk. Zane's expressionless, blood-streaked face. The fear in the Raiders' eyes when they realised Death had come for them. 

_ No wonder he doesn't like that nickname.  _

Footsteps thudded down the corridor, quietly at first but louder with every step. Too heavy to be a Calypso; that at least was a godsend. If Troy had come back for another round of ‘Fun with Phaselock’, she wasn't sure she'd survive the experience. She wondered what Tyreen would say if she found out her brother inspired more fear in the Firehawk than she herself did...then decided it probably wasn’t worth the trouble of finding out. 

The door opened and there was an odd scraping sound as the heavy footsteps crossed the room. She turned her head slowly, her blurred vision making out the familiar shapes of two large figures propelling a smaller figure between them. Zane seemed to be at least upright, which was promising; bolstered by that reassurance, she stayed where she was, still feeling the effects of repeated oxygen deprivation. Sitting up probably wouldn’t go too well and standing was absolutely not an option right now. 

The door to the other cell opened and there was a scuffle, followed by a thud. 

"Shit, better check you haven't messed up his pretty face."

"Shut up. He's fine. Look."

There was another scuffling sound, then the cell door slammed shut just as the outer door opened again. 

“You guys call that ‘cleaned up’? He looks even more like shit than before!” The soft scrape of flat metal on concrete followed his words and Lilith realised with a flood of relief that the newcomer had brought food. She had absolutely zero desire to eat right now but they’d both need nourishment to keep what was left of their strength up. 

“Shut up. Not my fault he keeps bleeding on everything.” 

_ Bleeding? _

“Oh, so it’s  _ my _ fault then?” 

_ Why is he bleeding? I didn’t see him get hurt!  _

She hadn’t seen much of anything, to be fair; after the Raiders had— 

_ —DON’T think about it— _

—after  _ that _ , Tyreen’s attention had been firmly on Zane, so Troy had been free to exercise his creativity once more. 

“Whatever! That’s what these are for. You gonna give ‘em to him, or what?” 

“Do I look like a fucking medic?”

There was a soft clinking sound and Lilith frowned.  _ What  _ is  _ that? _

“Hey, Heretic. Gift from the God-queen.” The clinking noise came again, followed by a softer noise like something rolling. She turned her head slowly to see a glint of red as two glass vials rolled across her field of vision on the other side of the bars.  _ They’re giving him meds? First time for everything, I guess. Maybe they’ve finally realised they’re killing the star of the show.  _

Something clanged against the bars of her cell and she tensed at the sound, hating more than anything that her body seemed already conditioned to expect pain when it heard that sound. 

“Awwh, Firehawk doesn’t look too good either. Not enjoying the entertainment?” the cultist sneered as she heard the video loop start again. The mocking edge in his tone set her teeth clenching, but she didn’t say a word. There was no point. 

“Come on, let’s go. I’m starving.” 

The three of them trooped out without another word. The silence after they left was absolute and Lilith started to feel distinctly uneasy at Zane's lack of response to their goading, not to mention the fact that he'd made no move to pick up the med vials they'd given him. She turned her head back to face his cell but couldn't see anything apart from a dark silhouette lying on the cell floor. The deepening darkness of the room didn't help; the narrow strip of window showed that full night wasn't far away now and the lighting in this room was weak at best. 

"Zane?" she croaked. "You okay?" 

No answer.

Alarm bells began to chime insistently in the back of her mind. "Zane!" she called out, louder as she turned painfully onto her side, favouring her injured shoulder as she used the bars to haul herself up against the side of the cell. Black shapes flashed across her vision for a moment and she had to cling to the bars to keep from collapsing back to the floor, sweat beading her forehead as she blinked hard. "Zane? Come on, say something!" 

Still no response. 

As her vision cleared, she squinted in the dim light and was finally able to make out a few more details.

He was lying sprawled on his back, one arm outstretched towards her and the other draped loosely over his abdomen. His head was turned away from her, making it impossible to see his face. They'd cleaned him up a bit (or at least thrown some water over him, judging from the way his hair was plastered to his head) and given him dry clothes, but… 

Her eyes followed the line of his arm across his body, widening at the sight of blood, spreading in a dark patch over his otherwise fairly clean shirt. His wound had reopened again.  _ Shit.  _ They hadn't bothered to heal his injuries? Did they just not care, or were they seriously so stupid that they didn't realise he was in no state to do it himself? 

Given what she’d learned about the average cultist, either one was possible. 

The med vials had rolled fairly close to Zane, stopping just beside his left leg, but until he regained consciousness they weren't going to be much use. Lilith reached through the bars towards them, stretching out her arm and fingers as far as she could but she couldn't reach the vials or him, her straining fingertips still inches away from his. 

_ Fuck. This is not good. This is NOT GOOD.  _

"Zane, I need you to wake up now. Zane!" Tears of desperation stung her eyes as she raised her voice as loud as her abused throat would allow, thumping her fist against the bars. "Zane, please!  _ Wake up _ !" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you are enjoying this angst-fest so far! 
> 
> Have been doing some reading and I felt the need to add a little disclaimer: any similarity to other BL fics is purely incidental, though I may be somewhat inspired by them. I'm always several chapters ahead with writing this story but have been sporadic with updating :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No ‘In which…’ summary for this one—it’s getting hard to write them without spoiling things!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite reading some very compelling arguments to the contrary on Reddit, I have decided that for the purposes of this AU, Troy still has to supplement his energy by feeding off a Siren/some other means to keep his health and powers topped up even after killing Maya. He is still not a complete Siren; he just got some fun new powers. 

Troy walked into the throne room, glaring at Tyreen where she sat with her feet propped on the back of a crouched tink. She narrowed her eyes at him and waved a hand imperiously at her entourage. “All of you get out—not you,” she snapped as the tink under her feet started to move. 

The cultists scattered like ratches, skirting around Troy like a river parting around a rock. He ignored them, stalking towards the throne at the far end without looking away from his sister. 

She glared back at him, every fibre of her being radiating annoyance. "About time you showed up. You all done with your bitchfest?” 

“What?” His eyes flicked down to the tink still crouched under Tyreen’s crossed ankles, not sure how comfortable he was with having a witness to the argument that was bound to follow. 

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He cut his own tongue out as a show of adoration for me...last week? Week before? I don’t remember. Anyway, he can’t talk and doesn’t know how to read or write, so he’s basically just furniture now.” She rolled her eyes at his expression. “I thought we were past all this shit, Troy. You and me, ruling the galaxy. I thought you wanted that.” 

“Of course I do, Ty, but—” 

“Then why are you avoiding me? And what the fuck were you playing at today?”

“What are you talking about?” Troy snapped. 

She raised her eyebrows as if surprised by his response. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! The  _ Firehawk _ , dumbass!” 

He ground his teeth.  _ I’m getting real sick of you calling me that…  _ “I told you, she pissed me off! What, I’m just supposed to let her get away with it?” 

“You’re supposed to do your job! What part of 'set up the cameras' didn't you get?” 

“You would have done the same,” he hissed. “Don’t start acting all high and mighty with me just because—”

She interrupted, waving a hand in a way that she probably thought was very regal but he just found it infuriating. “We have a system, Troy!  _ You  _ run the streams and  _ I  _ tell you when Flynt needs motivation.” 

“I don’t answer to you, Tyreen!” he shouted. “You might be their  _ God-queen _ ,” he sneered derisively, “but to me you’re just my bitch of a sister. I don’t follow your orders.” 

Eyes wide at his outburst, she opened her mouth to speak but he wasn’t finished. 

“And you can shut the fuck up about the Firehawk while you’re still playing with Flynt!” 

“Playing… What?” She scoffed incredulously. “Troy, what the hell?”

He clenched his fists, his metal hand audibly creaking from the pressure. “Don’t give me that shit. You know what I’m talking about. Why is he  _ still alive _ ?” 

Tyreen stared at him. For a moment her expression was completely serious. “Troy, are you… Are you jealous...of Flynt? Are you  _ serious _ ?” 

_ Jealous?  _ He recoiled at the idea. “What? No! This is about  _ you _ , Ty! You're not acting like yourself—" 

“You  _ are  _ jealous!” She started to giggle again, her hand clutching her stomach as she burst into peals of laughter. 

Troy’s temper—already on a short fuse—snapped. “Stop  _ laughing at me!” _ he roared, his hand flying up and his tattoos flaring before he could stop and think about what a bad idea it was. Blistering heat seared his palm but he barely noticed it under the rage burning through him. 

Tyreen stopped the orb of energy before it was even halfway across the space between them, pulling it towards her and snatching it out of the air as easily as a thrown rock. All laughter gone from her face, she looked at it for a shocked moment, then at him. Her eyes narrowed. “Did you just… Are you fucking  _ kidding  _ me?”

He glared at her but didn’t speak. He hadn’t actually intended to lose his temper like that, but these days she just seemed to know  _ exactly  _ which buttons to press. At least when they were kids it had been fairly harmless stuff, but this shit was dangerous. They could end up killing each other with the power they had now. 

“What the hell is going on with you, Troy?” She stood up, clenching her fist and crushing the energy ball out of existence. “You don’t talk to me anymore; you’re acting like a fucking  _ kid! _ And you haven’t fed for, what...two days now? No wonder you look like shit right now!” 

He clenched his jaw. “I don’t need anything from you!"

"Bullshit. I can see it, Troy." She walked closer, holding out a hand as her tattoos started to glow. "Come on. You're gonna get sick again if you keep this shit up."

"I said I'm fine!" he snapped. "I know my limits."

She snorted in disbelief and stayed where she was, hand outstretched. When he made no move to take it, her expression darkened. "Fine. Don't come crying to me when you're puking your guts up in a corner somewhere." 

"Fuck you." He turned on his heel and left the room, just barely resisting the urge to slam the door on his way out. 

_ I'm done being your parasite. _

* * *

Lilith’s voice had long since faded to a hoarse whisper, her already sore throat burning from shouting for so long. Her hand and wrist ached from banging it on the bars but she kept trying, her weakening efforts barely breaking the silence. At some point the video feed had been cut off, but in her panic she’d had no time to feel relief that the horror show was over. Not when her every shred of attention was focused on the horror right in front of her. 

“Zane… Please, you have to wake up. I… I can’t do this on my own...” Her face was already wet with tears but more kept joining the flood, streaming down her cheeks and pattering onto the metal floor. 

She had no idea how long it had been since he had come back—had been  _ dragged  _ back—but his wound was still bleeding and he hadn’t so much as twitched. From the slight rise and fall of his chest, she could tell he was still breathing but it was worryingly rapid and shallow. 

If she couldn’t get those meds into him soon, he was going to die. 

She sat up straighter, mustered what strength she had left and banged her fist against the bars, making them ring like a distant bell. “Zane! Come on! Don’t you dare give up now!” 

Nothing.

Sinking back to the floor, she let out a wordless cry of disappointment and grief as the bitterly familiar feeling of powerlessness washed over her. A friend was dying because of her,  _ again _ . There was nothing she could do,  _ again _ . He’d risked his life for her and now he was going to lose it because she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t even reach to hold his hand while he lay dying for her sake. 

Her eyes roved listlessly across the room, absently cataloguing the things she saw despite knowing that none of them would help her. They paused for a moment on the empty tray that had held the food she’d forced herself to eat. She’d almost thrown it straight back up but kept it down through sheer strength of will, refusing to give them the satisfaction of starving herself, no matter how sick she felt. Lowering her gaze to her lap, she closed her eyes as yet more tears—surely they had to dry up soon?—trickled down to drip into her hands. Her head was pounding, likely a result of her length crying spell, and she pressed her good hand against her face hard enough for white flashes to cross her vision. 

When she lowered her hand, the flashes didn’t stop. 

_ Li—ith _ — 

She froze. The voice was heavily distorted, impossible to recognise, but she’d seen this before;  _ done _ this before. A pair of purplish-grey eyes flashed in front of her own, a sight she’d never thought she’d see again. 

_ This—diff—cult. Can’t—for— _

The words were choppy, scarcely one in three making any sense. Lilith frowned, shaking her head.  _ This isn’t real. This can’t be real.  _

_ Are—alive?  _

She nodded in a daze. How was another Siren contacting her now? And who could it be? Amara? It had to be. She was the only other Siren left. 

_ She—shield—hang—we’re— _

The connection shattered as abruptly as it had formed, leaving her with an inexplicable feeling of loss. She gasped, clutching her good hand to her chest as she tried desperately to make sense of what she’d just seen. 

Was that even real? Or a hallucination, brought on by wishful thinking and desperation? If their companions were out there trying to save them, wouldn't they have heard something by now? They wouldn’t have waited so long to get in touch, surely. Or was that just another way for the Calypsos to hurt them, to make them think they'd been abandoned? 

It hurt too much to think about right now. If they hadn't been abandoned, then that just meant more of her people were risking their lives for a pointless cause. And if they had…

Her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.  _ Don't go there. Nothing good comes of it.  _

She was jolted sharply from her thoughts as a soft groan reached her ears. 

It was barely more than a murmur but in the silence of the cells it might as well have been a shout. Her head snapped up so fast she accidentally whacked it on the bars behind her. Pain sparked in the back of her skull and she raised her good hand to rub at the offended area. “Shit... Zane? Was that you?" 

Silence. For a long moment she wondered if she'd imagined it, but then he spoke, his voice little more than a rough whisper. 

"M'not dead then…" 

"What? No, you're not dead!" She pulled herself up using the bars and sat up straighter. "Can you move? They gave you some meds but I can't reach to—"

"No."

She paused. "What? What do you mean, 'no'?" 

He murmured something unintelligible, too quietly for her to hear. The hand outstretched towards her twitched, his fingers closing slightly into a loose fist but otherwise he remained motionless. 

"Zane? You need treatment or you'll die!" 

"Feckin'...deserve it." 

She closed her eyes for a moment. Once again, the terrified faces of the dying Crimson Raiders flashed across her mind and she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.  _ It wasn’t his fault. I have to remember that.  _

_ And so does he.  _

She looked back over at him. He hadn’t moved. “Zane, I—” She stopped. 

What could she say?  Could she honestly say she forgave him, that she didn’t blame him for making that choice? 

_ Yes. It should never have been his choice to make.  _

Lilith spoke again, haltingly, feeling her eyes prickle with desperate tears again. “Zane…I won’t survive this without you. If you die, I-I’m next. You know that, right?” 

She hated herself  _ so much _ for using his loyalty to her against him like this, but the man was a stubborn fool. If she couldn’t make him see what else was at stake, make him reconsider, she wouldn’t put it past him to let himself die just to spite the Calypsos out of their entertainment. 

He gave a short non-committal hum that might have been an agreement, or might have meant nothing at all. 

Lilith stared at him for a long moment, before her eyes flicked to the medicine vials lying tantalisingly out of reach. This was getting them nowhere. He was still bleeding—it was a wonder he’d regained consciousness at all, given how much blood he’d already lost—and if they didn’t stop it soon it would be too late. 

Time for a different approach. 

She took a breath and let it out sharply. “Will you at least help me reach the meds they gave you? If you won’t use them, I sure could. My shoulder is killing me.” 

More than anything else she’d said so far, that got his attention. “You…You’re...?”

“Yeah. Could really use a hypo right now.” She felt the faintest glimmer of hope as she saw his fingers twitch again. “Any chance you could send them my way, if you don’t want them?”

When he finally moved, it was painfully obvious that it took every ounce of strength he had. Turning his head slowly, he caught her eye and she fought down a wince at the pain and exhaustion she saw on his face. 

_ He’s given up. Or he’s about to.  _

Closing his eyes for a moment, he bared his teeth in a grimace of effort and turned it further, opening his eyes again to look for the vials. 

“There.” Lilith pointed them out, lying a few inches from his leg. “Can you roll them to me?” 

“Y-Yeah…” She watched as he slowly bent his arm and reached for the vials, his hand shaking visibly from the effort. His fingers nudged one vial into the other and he flinched at the sharp sound of the glass knocking together. 

“It’s okay. You got this,” Lilith murmured with what she hoped was a smile of encouragement. 

With agonising slowness, he curled his fingers around one of the vials, then straightened his arm and pushed it towards her. She thrust her arm through the bars and caught it as it started to arc in a wide circle, snatching it up before it could roll out of reach. 

Now came the tricky part. She’d only get one chance to get this right. Lilith watched Zane’s hand as he reached for the second vial, still holding her arm out through the bars and waiting for the moment when he would be close enough…

_ There!  _

As his fingers extended to push the second hypo towards her, she reached as far as she could and managed to grab his hand, letting the vial roll away into the bars with a ‘ting’. He frowned at her, his exhausted expression turning sharper. “What...What’re you…”

She met his eyes and grimaced apologetically. “I’m sorry about this.” 

Adjusting her fingers so she could get a grip on his wrist, she took a breath and summoned all of her strength before pulling as hard as she could. In her weakened state, she barely managed to move him a foot across the floor of the cell, but it was enough. He hissed a curse through clenched teeth and made a pathetic attempt to pull his hand free but she held on, awkwardly popping the cap off the med hypo with her other hand. Her injured shoulder screamed as she reached her right arm through the bars and jabbed the needle into his arm, holding on until the vial was empty. 

“Feck...Feckin’ hell! Lilith!” He glared at her, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he kept having to blink to refocus his eyes. 

She just shook her head, pushing away her guilt for now as she let the empty hypo roll away. “I’m not letting you die like this. You said it yourself: if you give up, then they win. I’m not about to let that happen, Zane.” 

He didn’t speak but his narrowed eyes spoke volumes. As the meds kicked in, his face paled and he looked away, hissing a shuddering breath through his teeth. The medicine would have been more effective if she’d been able to administer it closer to the actual wound, but this was good enough. She looked around for the second vial and snatched it up from where it had stopped against the bars, still holding his wrist in her other hand. For a moment, as the pain in her shoulder reached new heights, she considered using it herself but shoved the selfish impulse down almost as quickly as it had surfaced.  _ It’s just pain. You’ll live. Without treatment, he won’t.  _

Her fingers tightened around the vial, before a stinging pain tore across the pad of her thumb. “Ouch!” Looking down, she saw that the glass vial had cracked, probably on impact with the metal of the bars. Red iridescent liquid was trickling out over her fingers and she cursed, yanking the cap off with her teeth and jabbing the needle into his arm. Doing her best to cover the crack and keep any more of the precious medicine from escaping, she watched his face as he closed his eyes again, turning his head away from her. 

The guilt resurfaced as the second empty vial clattered onto the floor and she finally released his hand. He yanked it away as quickly as his diminished strength would allow, curling his arm up against his chest. For a long moment he held it there, his whole body taut as a coiled spring, until his exhaustion won over and he passed out again. She watched him like a hawk, only relaxing when she saw for certain that he was still breathing. 

In all the time she’d known him, he’d made it clear that the one thing he couldn’t stand was having the ability to make his own choices taken away from him. And she’d done just that; she hadn’t even given him the choice of dying on his own terms. 

He probably hated her now. 

_ I deserve that, _ she thought bitterly _. But I’d do it again.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief reminder: as with the violence, we're using game logic for the meds as well. A syringe of miracle-meds is not going to stop someone bleeding out IRL, but in this universe it just might...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for childhood trauma (physical and emotional abuse) and PTSD.

_ “Zane? Come on out, baby brother… I won’t hurt you!”  _

_ He crouches in the darkness, holding his breath, gripping the handle of his knife so hard his fingers ache. His back stings and he can feel that he’s bleeding, but there’s no time to worry about that now. If Captain finds him, a little blood will be the least of his worries. _

_ The door slams open. “Nice try, little brother. Get out here or I’ll make you.”  _

He jolted, his elbow knocking painfully against the floor as his eyes flew open. Gasping for breath and blinded by the sudden pain that erupted in his side as his chest heaved, he scrambled backwards until his back slammed hard into the wall. 

_ “No point in running, pipsqueak!” _

_ A strong arm is flung out in front of him as he rounds the corner and he runs into it at full speed, falling backwards with the wind knocked out of him. Baron blocks the sunlight as he stands over him. “What did you do now, Zane?” _

_ Gasping for air, he can only shake his head, his wide eyes silently begging for help. Baron looks at him for a moment, then grabs his arm and drags him through the door into the pitch blackness of the shed, slamming the door shut behind him. “Quiet. He’s on one today. Dunno what you did to piss him off but you’d better stay out of sight. I’ll tell you when he’s gone.”  _

Eyes squeezed shut against the pain, his whole world was darkness, the thunder of his pounding heart and the rapid rasp of his panicked breathing. His whole body tensed, waiting for the next attack, the next chance to run, the next place to hide. 

_ “Little bastard cut me!”  _

_ “Should’ve been faster then, dumbass.” Baron’s taunting voice floats through the wooden wall of the shed. _

Don’t!  _ he silently begs.  _ Don’t make it worse! He’ll hurt you too!

_ But it seems that Captain has decided to save all of his rage for Zane alone. Baron gets let off with just a muttered “Fuck you” before Captain’s heavy footsteps disappear towards the house. For the first time in hours, Zane allows himself to feel a moment of relief as his eyes prickle with grateful tears.  _

_ The door opens and Baron pokes his head through the gap. “Come out.” _

_ He scrambles forwards, desperate to get out of the oppressive blackness of the shed. After Captain’s trick with the ratches in the basement, he’s developed an acute fear of small, dark places. Blinking in the sun, he looks up to see Baron smiling at him. It isn’t a friendly smile.  _

_ “When are you gonna learn, Zane?” Baron purrs, slipping an arm around his shoulders and gripping him tightly. Too late, he hears heavy footsteps returning from the other side of the shed. “You can’t trust anyone. The sooner you learn that, the better.”  _

_ “When are you gonna learn,” Captain growls as he grabs a handful of Zane’s shirt, “that you can’t hide from me, Zane?”  _

“...Zane?”

_ “Look at me, you little bastard!”  _

_ SMACK.  _

_ The taste of blood fills his mouth as he takes a vicious backhanded blow across the face. His knife, forgotten in his panic, falls from his hand to clatter on the ground. He whimpers in fear as Baron picks it up, eyeing the blade with a smile. It had been a gift from them for his birthday; just another way to make him think he was safe before they took that away too.  _

_ The knife catches the light, as Baron flips it over and over in his hand. “That was careless, Zane. It’s like you don’t appreciate our gift.”  _

“Zane!” 

_ “Ungrateful little shit!” Captain shakes him roughly.  _

_ “Don’t you get it?” Baron leans in and turns the blade to reflect the blinding sunlight into Zane’s eyes. “We’re doing you a favour, Zane. You need to learn. You should be grateful.” The knife flicks forward, aiming for his eyes— _

He jerked back out of range, his head slamming into the wall behind him with a low thud. White lights flashed across his vision and he cursed, blinking hard as his hands rose to protect his face from…from… 

Steel bars. Cold metal floor. Pain. 

Memory flooded back and he dropped his face into his hands, holding his palms against his eyes until the flashing stopped. His head pounded but it was a weak echo of how he’d felt a few days before. Chest still heaving with harsh, panicked breaths, he grimaced as the movement tugged painfully at his throbbing side. 

He looked down. Blood still caked his side, sticking his shirt to his chest and stomach, but it was drying. As he gingerly pulled the fabric of his collar to one side, he saw the wound was raw and pink but healing, no longer bleeding freely. 

_ Wait. I was bleeding…  _

_ Lilith.  _

He was surprised to feel a sudden flare of anger at the thought of her.  _ She tricked me.  _

_ She saved your life, boyo. _

He clenched his jaw, glaring at his knees and refusing to glance in her direction.  _ I didn’t wanna be saved! She had no right to— _

_ Didn’t she? She’s your commander. Or so you keep tellin’ her, anyway.  _

Well, feck. He did tell her that. 

“...Zane?” 

Her voice was small, timid and absolutely nothing like the Lilith he’d come to know. Even through the anger he still felt, it tugged at the core of guilt inside him. He looked up, took a deep breath—noting the decrease in pain now that he wasn’t gasping with panic—and turned his head to meet her eyes. 

* * *

If Zane’s unresponsiveness had been frightening, it was nothing compared to his reaction upon waking. Lilith had never seen anyone go from unconscious to outright terrified so quickly. He cowered in the far corner of his cell, his eyes squeezed shut and hands curled protectively against his chest as he shook with rapid, gasping breaths. 

_ He’s panicking, _ she realised in shock.

Leaning against the bars, she tried to pitch her voice somewhere between reassuring and apologetic. “Zane?”

He flinched, turning his head sharply away from her and making a sound she’d never heard from him before. It almost sounded like a sob. 

_ Can he even hear me?  _ She raised her voice. “Zane!”

He recoiled violently, so much so that he actually hit his head on the back wall of his cell. She winced in sympathy as he hissed a sharp  _ “Shite!” _ and raised his hands to his face. 

Opening her mouth, she was about to speak again when she heard him mutter something that sounded an awful lot like “tricked me”. 

Guilt stabbed at her and she looked away, tears filling her eyes again. She knew he’d hate her for doing that, but she hadn’t any choice! She couldn’t just let him die! 

“...wanna be saved! She had  _ no _ right to—”

_ Wait. Who is he talking to? _

She raised her head, blinking away the tears, and saw that he was no longer covering his face, but instead glaring straight ahead as if he was trying to bore a hole through the opposite wall. 

“...Zane?” 

He turned his head, looking directly at her with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes, they were as hard and cold as glass. He’d worn that same expression yesterday, too. She fought down a shudder at the unwelcome reminder of yesterday’s bloodbath. 

_ That wasn’t really him _ , she told herself sternly, though the thought held more conviction than she felt. __

His unblinking stare chilled her to the core as he looked at her without a word. Opening her mouth, she sought desperately for something to say to break the horrible tension forming between them. Every instinct told her that talking about what had just happened was definitely a bad idea. Eventually, she just said, “It’s good to see you awake.” 

Zane’s eyes flicked away, then back to her, his expression softening a little but still stiff.  _ He’s scared _ , she realised. Whatever he’d seen in that flashback must have really shaken him up; on top of that, he was probably feeling utterly humiliated that she’d witnessed the whole thing. She looked away for a moment, to give him a semblance of privacy to compose himself and also to search for a safe topic of conversation. 

Her gaze landed on the metal tray still sitting in front of his cell and she grasped at this conversational lifeline like a drowning woman at a raft. “Maybe...you should eat something. You were out for a...a long time.” 

He followed her gaze to the tray, his face paling again as he shook his head slightly. 

“Okay, that’s okay.” She bit her lip. “But you should at least have some water. You lost a lot of blood.” 

“If I do, will you leave me be?” he snapped, the first full sentence he’d spoken to her since before he’d been taken away yesterday. The sudden venom in his voice was shocking, leaving her speechless for a full ten seconds. 

When she eventually managed to find her voice, she wasn’t quite able to keep a shake from her words. “Zane, I— If that’s what you want—”

“Yeah. It is.” 

He still wasn’t looking at her, but the cold severity in his expression as he glared across the room made her nervous. She’d seen him pissed off many times before, when one of their crewmates (usually Moze) had messed with his things or when he'd lost a wager, but he’d always laughed it off over drinks a couple of hours later. She wasn’t sure if this version of Zane—emanating glacial fury and tense almost to breaking point—would be so forgiving. 

* * *

Cultists scuttled out of Tyreen’s way as she made her way down a twisting series of corridors. She didn’t bother to wave or smile, but that didn’t matter to them. She could be kicking them in the face and they’d cry for joy and thank her for the privilege. Scowling, she reached her destination and stood for a moment outside the door. 

Unbidden, a voice in the back of her head chimed in with a cheerful,  _ “Apologise to your brother, starlight. Family shouldn’t fight.”  _

_ Oh, fuck off. I’m not doing this for you, dad. I’m doing it because… Fuck it, I just am.  _

She opened the door carefully, resisting the urge to throw it open after what had happened the last time she’d surprised Troy while he was working in the lab. They’d been able to replace the incinerated test subjects, of course, but it had been an irritating inconvenience. 

Inside, Troy was leaning over a table on which was bound what Tyreen could only assume was Troy’s latest ‘anointment project’. He didn’t bother to look up as she approached, instead raising a hand and gesturing out to the side. Tyreen stopped and watched in surprise as a scalpel levitated off the surface in its own little phaselock orb and floated over to him. As she watched it go, she noticed a second much-larger orb, containing a cultist suspended upside-down in the far corner of the room. “Multi-tasking,” she said with undisguised admiration. “You’re getting pretty good at this,Troy.” 

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly, snatching the tool out of the air and applying it with precision to his subject’s forearm. The cultist writhed and shrieked but Troy ignored the screams and continued cutting. 

Tyreen huffed a sigh. “Can’t I just stop by to see what my little brother’s up to?”

“You never come down here unless you want something. Plus,” Troy picked up a shard of raw eridium in his gloved hand and slid it delicately into the cut he’d just made, “I’m still not talking to you.” 

“Yeah... I can tell.” She rolled her eyes. “Listen. We’re gonna have to take a break with the broadcasts for a few days. Fucking Vault Thieves nearly broke through my shielding yesterday.”

“Sounds like a whole lot of  _ your  _ problem.”

“Look, dumb—” She saw his knuckles whiten briefly and cut herself off, then tried again. “Look. It’s going to be  _ our _ problem if those idiots find us. I don’t wanna have to rebuild this whole fucking place because whatever’s left of the Crimson Losers decided to drop a bomb on us.” 

“Fine. I get it. No broadcasts. Now get out.” 

_ Dammit, Troy, talk to me!  _

She took a breath. “Troy—” 

“What?” He set down his tools and finally turned to look at her. She noted—with a degree of concern that surprised even her—that he was slightly paler than normal, his eyes bruised-looking and sunken. Either he was putting in too many late nights at the lab (it wouldn’t be the first time) or something else was going on. Behind him, the cultist suspended in the energy orb gave a pathetic flail before going limp, while the one on the table twitched silently, likely in too much pain to keep screaming. 

“Um, I think you’ve killed him.” Tyreen pointed over his shoulder. “Your friend over there.” 

“Oh. Shit.” Troy flicked his wrist and the orb dissipated, letting the corpse drop to the floor with a ‘thud’. “What do you want from me, Ty? You wanted to tell me something, and now you’ve told me. We’re done here.” 

She gritted her teeth.  _ I  _ was _ going to apologise, you asshole!  _ “You know what? Fine by me. I was gonna try and play nice, since we’re family and I was worried about you—”

“You were worried?” He barked an incredulous laugh. “Ty, I know you. You don’t worry about  _ anything _ …much less me.” 

Tyreen blinked at that unexpected admission. By the sudden flush of anger in his cheeks, she suspected he hadn’t meant to say that last part. Now that the issue was out in the open, however… “You obviously don’t know me as well as you think you do, then! Because I  _ am _ worried about you, Troy! Whether you like it or not, we’re family and that means I actually give a shit whether you live or die.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he scoffed. 

She glared at him. “Have the headaches started yet? The shakes?” 

“I’m fine!” he insisted, glowering back. “I’m managing it.” 

“And how is that, exactly?” She folded her arms and tilted her head questioningly. “Because we both know this isn’t something you can just ignore.”

“You think I don’t  _ know that _ ?” he shouted harshly, turning away and slamming his fist down onto a nearby table with a crash. “You have no idea what it feels like, Tyreen, so don’t you  _ dare _ come down here and lecture me—”

“Lecture? Fuck, I’m not our  _ dad _ !” 

“Well, you sure as hell sound like him!” He whirled back around, the pallor of his face now hidden by the furious redness flooding his cheeks. “Why can’t you understand that I’m not just some...some stupid kid anymore? I said I’m handling it, so let me handle it!” 

“I’m just trying to help!” she snapped back, unsure if she was more angry with him or with herself for ever thinking this was a good idea.

“No, you’re trying to control me like you always do! You think I want to be chained to you for the rest of my life? I’m not your fucking parasite anymore, Tyreen.” He snatched something up off the table and waved it at her. It was a syringe, the vial filled with shimmering purple liquid. Eridium purple. “I’ve found my own way. I don’t need you anymore. So get the fuck out of my lab and leave me  _ alone. _ ” 

_ Wait, these experiments…  _ That’s  _ what he’s doing? _

“You’re anointing  yourself?  Bit risky, isn’t it?” she asked, years of habit concealing her horror behind a mask of distaste. 

“Not exactly. You wouldn’t understand, just… Just go away!” 

_ Wouldn’t understand? I’m not an idiot, Troy!  _ She bristled, all concern buried beneath a fresh upwelling of anger and contempt. “Well, fuck me for caring, I guess.” She turned away and headed for the door. 

He didn’t say a word as she left. Didn't try to stop her or explain. 

She refused to acknowledge how much that hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at end: I think I've said this before but I’ll say it again just in case—I am absolutely not a medical expert. I know hitting your head again after a concussion is super dangerous, but let’s just assume the meds fixed whatever might have caused complications when Zane smacked his head on the wall. Taking liberties with science all over the place in this story :P 
> 
> Similarly with the PTSD - I am using a mix of personal experience, media and the internet to create Zane’s experience here. I sincerely hope this doesn’t offend or upset anybody who has had their own experiences with this type of situation.


	11. Chapter 11

Zane turned the scrap of broken circuitry over and over in his hands, grimacing as a sharp edge drew a thin line of blood across the side of his finger. He’d been looking at it for what felt like hours, though of course it was impossible to tell in this place. 

_It’s fecked, boyo._

_Shut up._

Lilith stirred and he froze, nearly biting his tongue as he realised he’d done it again—he’d spoken aloud when he meant to keep his thoughts inside his head. It was getting a little hard to tell which was which. He supposed he should probably be worried about that, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really feel like the biggest problem right now. 

She settled again and he allowed himself to relax just a little, letting out a silent sigh of relief that he hadn’t woken her. It had been a very welcome respite when she’d decided to turn around and rest instead of trying to talk or simply staring at him. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he told himself she wasn’t the enemy, she wasn’t the reason why his heart rate kept spiking, why he couldn’t sit still… The fact remained that she’d seen him at his absolute worst and he didn’t mean his physical condition. Very few people alive had ever witnessed him breaking down like that, outside of his family—

_“Look at me, you little bastard!”_

He shuddered, dropping the broken circuitry into his lap and clenching both hands in his hair, squeezing hard until his scalp ached and the echoes receded once more. 

_Breathe. Count to ten. You’re not there anymore, Zane._

If he hadn’t been trying so hard to stay silent, he would have scoffed. _Yeah, because this place is SO much better._

_You know it is. At least here you don’t—_

_Stop._

Another echo, this one audible outside of his (somewhat crowded) skull, told him he’d responded aloud yet again. His side ached sharply and he realised he was breathing hard as if he’d run a mile. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow, deliberate breaths as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal. 

_Feckin' hell, Zane, pull yerself together!_

He hadn’t experienced a flashback that vivid for quite some time. Even though both of his brothers were long dead and gone, it seemed they weren’t finished with him just yet. It wasn’t hard to guess why they’d chosen now to surface in his memory, either. The door he kept locked between that period of his life and the man he was now—the door he’d spent several decades carefully building up to keep the nightmares contained—held more than just a few childhood memories. This past week, being pushed to the very edge of his physical and mental endurance, had kicked all of that hard work wide open. 

No, that wasn’t strictly true. It had unlocked the door. _He’d_ kicked it open. 

_back of the neck, stab twice just to make sure_

He shuddered again, his hands tightening once more until his head started to ache, adding to the symphony of discomfort and misery he was already experiencing. 

He welcomed the pain. He deserved it. 

_You had no choice. You know that._

_Shut up._

_What was the alternative, hmm? They were gonna die anyway. You did ‘em a favour makin’ it quick, boyo._

_SHUT UP._

What was the first sign of madness? Talking to yourself. Well, he did that on a regular basis; had done so for as long as he could remember. The second sign? Answering back. _Bingo._ He’d never considered it a problem before, but right now he was genuinely weighing up the merits of opening his own skull and cutting out the little part of him that kept insisting on offering its opinion, independent of whether he actually wanted to hear it. 

It was exhausting. 

Exhaling an exasperated sigh through his nose, he opened his eyes again and picked up the damaged digistruct module with careful fingers. Somehow he didn’t think immersing himself in his work until he was too exhausted to think—his usual tactic when the nightmares resurfaced—would work this time. Still, it would give him something to take his mind off the situation (which he could do nothing about) and Lilith (an emotional can of worms he did _not_ want to touch right now). 

On closer examination, he could see that some of the internal workings had, incredibly, escaped total destruction. If he could just get rid of the shite all over the contacts… 

_Hmm._

Reaching out, he picked up the cracked remains of the empty med hypo, still lying where Lilith had dropped it. The broken glass, still smeared with blood, had separated from the mechanism, exposing the needle and its metal casing. Setting the pieces of the broken vial carefully on the floor to minimise the noise, he examined the edge of the metal cylinder. It was sharp, sharp enough to cut himself if he wasn’t careful, but that might just be exactly what he needed. 

_You're gonna shiv your way out with_ that _?_

He ignored the derisive tone echoing around his brain and set to work. Making tiny, careful motions, he started to chip away at the melted plastic with the metal edge, using the tip of the needle to pry up the smaller pieces. 

_Even if this works, which it won’t, what exactly are you hopin’ to achieve here?_

His initial wish for a self-inflicted lobotomy might not be practical, but that didn’t stop Zane wishing—not for the first time nor the last, most likely—that he could reach into his own head and punch the owner of that unhelpful little voice. 

_I have to do_ somethin' _, or_ —

_Or what? You’ll crack? Little late for that, boyo._

* * *

Lilith lay on her side, trying to ignore the persistent aching in her shoulder as she listened to the soft scratching and tapping sounds coming from the other cell. She’d probably be more comfortable lying on her back—not to mention she was incredibly curious about what exactly Zane was up to—but she was reluctant to move. More accurately, she was wary to turn around, unsure of what reaction she would get. It had been painfully obvious that her focused attention hadn’t exactly been helpful for Zane’s mental state yesterday, so for now she opted to remain still and pretend to sleep. 

She’d known before they met that there was a good chance he’d have his fair share of issues. Every member of the infamous Flynt family, from murderous bandit chief ‘Captain’ Flynt to his psychotic offspring ‘Sparky’, had shown clear evidence of the psychopathy shared by so many natives of Pandora. Zane’s bloodthirsty nature, utter lack of fear (unless birds were involved, she'd been startled to discover) and tendency to talk to himself or his machines had seemed pretty tame by comparison. 

Until now. 

They’d been through so much, even before everything went to hell, but now she had to watch as her strong, fearless comrade finally started to crack around the edges. There was another side to Zane that she'd barely glimpsed before now. Early in their association she'd assumed it was the manic gleam in his eyes after he'd won a particularly challenging fight or done something especially dangerous; he was a self-confessed adrenaline junkie, after all. Now she realised she'd been dead wrong. The manic gleam, the wolfish grin, the laughter… That was the facade. The mask concealing the emotionless killer hidden beneath, who could shut off his morals and emotions like a light switch. And if that wasn't disturbing enough, it seemed there were demons in his past that could reduce even the fearless killer to trembling and cringing at shadows.

Still, she could hardly blame him for starting to lose his grip a little. Hell, she knew she was hardly at her best right now! She still wasn't sure she hadn't completely imagined that brief moment of psychic connection with Amara. Wishful thinking, or a hallucination brought on by stress, malnutrition and lack of sleep? She wasn't even sure she could trust her assessment of how long they'd been there; between the utter randomness of their meals being delivered and the amount of time she'd spent either passed out or semi-conscious, she'd lost all sense of time. The changing light which seemed to indicate day or night felt less like a reassuring constant and more like just another source of confusion and paranoia. 

There was a metallic 'shhng' noise and Zane hissed a sharp curse. There followed a brief moment of silence, then a sound like ripping cloth.

_What the hell is he doing?_

Lilith decided she was finished pretending to sleep and slowly turned into her back, grimacing as her shoulder protested the movement. All sounds from the other cell stopped as she moved but she resisted the urge to look over immediately, wary of being too obviously curious before she’d had a chance to gauge his mood. 

Silence reigned for several long minutes, while Lilith carefully stretched as many muscles as she could bear, still avoiding any unnecessary movement to her injured shoulder. Once she could move without being overwhelmed by cramping pain, she used the bars to haul herself up into a sitting position and shuffled back to rest against the solid wall of the cell. Sweat beaded her forehead and her jaw hurt from clenching against the pain by the time she was done, as she let her body relax once more. 

“Really are hurt, then?” His voice was so unexpected that it made her jump slightly. Soft and devoid of emotion, it would have sounded like a stranger’s voice if not for his distinctive accent. 

“Y-Yeah,” she replied quietly, still keeping her gaze fixed somewhere across the room. 

“Is it bad?” 

Reflexively, she shrugged slightly, regretting it instantly as pain stabbed through her shoulder. “Not sure,” she managed through gritted teeth. “All I know is it fucking hurts.” 

There was a pause. “Did Troy do that to you?” he asked. There was a new edge to his voice now but somehow she knew it wasn’t aimed at her this time. 

She nodded. “Before the—” Biting her tongue, she closed her eyes for a moment and started again. “Yeah. When the cameras were off.” 

If he noticed her slip, he didn’t comment. She opened her eyes again just as he said, "Cameras were off for a while." 

"Yeah." 

"I was worried."

_He was?_

She turned her head at that, to see him looking at her with an expression of concern that looked oddly out of place after the terror and rage he'd displayed not so long ago. His eyebrows rose slightly, as if her reaction had surprised him, and he held her gaze for only a few seconds before looking away. Trying not to draw any attention to whatever the hell that meant, she smiled sheepishly and said, “Yeah. I, uh, might've pissed him off.”

He glanced back at her and raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite his efforts to remain distant. “What’d you do?” 

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “He was having some trouble with the camera. I might have compared his technical difficulties with a…different kind of difficulty.” 

His chilly demeanor fell away as he stared at her, then barked an incredulous laugh. “You...what?”

Despite the circumstances, Lilith found herself grinning. “Yeah. Couldn’t resist. Paid for it afterwards, mind you.” She winced as her shoulder twinged at the memory, her gaze moving down. Her brows creased in a frown as she spotted the bloody strip of cloth tied around his hand. "What happened there?" 

He glanced down at it, his hands twitching as if resisting the urge to hide the evidence. "Slipped," he said evasively. "It's fine." 

_Slipped doing what?_ she wanted desperately to ask, but reined in the impulse. The brief moment of humour they’d shared had felt so much like normality, she was loathe to do or say anything that might destroy it. Instead she asked, “How are you feeling? Your injuries, I mean.” 

His eyes flicked back to hers for a moment before he looked away again. The humour that had appeared so suddenly was gone once more, replaced by an impassive, shuttered expression. “I’m fine. Wound’s nearly healed. Head feels better too.” He raised a hand and tried to smooth his wild hair down with minimal success. Lilith had to fight not to laugh when it puffed out crazily; clearly it behaved quite differently from normal when he was deprived of all his hair products. She didn’t think it would be helpful to point that out, but filed it away for future teasing purposes. 

_You’re assuming you have a future in which you’re alive to do said teasing,_ that malicious little voice she’d been trying so hard to ignore piped up cheerfully. 

Her amused smile froze for the briefest of moments before she was able to wrestle control back and relax into a more normal expression. “I...I’m glad.” 

Zane gave a noncommittal hum and looked back down at his hands, flexing his bandaged one gingerly. Once again she had to rein in the urge to ask what he’d been doing and instead focused on trying to judge the time from the light level in the room. It was difficult to be certain but she thought it might be early afternoon. _Not that it matters. It’s not like we have anything to look forward to down here except more misery._

The scratching sounds resumed and she looked over to see Zane fiddling with something in his lap. Between his fingers she could see the gleam of metal. More than ever before, she longed to ask what he was doing, but she doubted he would be receptive to her curiosity right now. 

What _he’s doing really isn’t important. What matters is that he’s alive to do it. If he's still willing to talk to me... Well, that's more than I expected or deserve._

* * *

The scalpel twisted sharply, missing its mark and cutting a deep, jagged wound into the cultist's arm. Blood spurted and Troy cursed bitterly, clenching his fingers tightly around the handle of the blade as he assessed the damage. Even if he had a med hypo to hand—he vaguely recalled stashing some in one of the cabinets—the resultant scarring would make this subject useless for his plans. He cursed again and stabbed the scalpel viciously through the bleeding limb and into the table below, ignoring the muffled whimpers of the man on the table. Gagging the test subjects had been one of his better ideas this week; while his headaches were manageable, they certainly weren't helped by the screams and wails of ungrateful cultists who didn't understand what an honour it was to be chosen to help further his research. 

His head swam briefly and he braced his hands against the edge of the table, closing his eyes until it passed. When he opened them again, his gaze flicked over to the vials of purple liquid stacked in the rack beside him. He was still wary of overdoing it with the serum, since he hadn’t quite ironed out all of the side effects. Still… it had been a couple of hours since his last dose. One more wouldn’t kill him. 

Carefully lifting one vial out of the rack, he fitted it into a clean syringe and sighed with relief as the pulsing pain behind his eyes dissipated almost as soon as the serum entered his bloodstream. It didn't fade completely—the formula wasn't perfect yet—but it was better than the alternative. 

He ground his teeth. _I'm never crawling back to Tyreen,_ ever _again._

Looking down at his hands, he noted with mild annoyance that they were still shaking very slightly. Not enough to impede his work, as long as he remained focused, but still a nuisance. He crossed the room and examined himself in the mirror on the wall. His skin still looked pale, though less than it had been yesterday, and his eyes were faintly bruised-looking as they narrowed in irritation. 

_It's still not enough. What am I missing?_

Behind him, the cultist's whimpers died away and he went limp as the blood loss finally took its toll. Troy spared him a contemptuous glance but didn't bother to turn. 

The door opened and one of his (for lack of a better word) 'assistants' stepped cautiously into the room, carrying a satchel in her arms. "Um, sir? I've brought the—" 

"Get out," Troy hissed without turning around. 

"But—" 

Troy flicked his wrist and a phaselock orb materialised around the cultist's head. Immediately she started to gasp, eyes bulging as her lungs tried to take in oxygen that wasn't there. The satchel fell to the floor, forgotten, as Troy clenched his hand into a fist and watched the reflection in the mirror as the woman's head exploded against the inside of the orb. Even as the sudden flare of anger faded, the part of his mind that was always analysing, always observing, noted the usefulness of that as a containment method. Perhaps he'd do that for his next anointment, in case the subject reacted badly to the procedure and exploded like that. It was getting tedious wiping blood off everything—or more accurately, watching while his followers wiped blood off everything. 

He released the orb and the woman's body slumped to the floor, blood splattering. Troy grimaced. It would need some refining before it would become a viable tool. Still, it was clear that his control and the strength of the orbs he could produce were aided significantly by the serum. That was progress. 

**_Notable decrease in pain and nausea,_ ** he tapped out on his Echo, **_but still some mild tremors and mood swings._ **

He paused. Did they really count as mood swings? Something had made him angry and he reacted. It wasn't all that irrational, looking back on it objectively. 

Deleting that last part, he amended: **_mild tremors and increased output of phaselock power and control._ **

A spark of pain flickered just behind his eyes again and he scowled, tucking his Echo away. Maybe he’d pay another visit to his favourite test subject. That never failed to cheer him up. As he tidied away his tools, wiping the blood off the blades, he wondered idly if Flynt had managed to get the meds in time, or if he’d bled to death down there. Troy hadn’t been able to fully override Tyreen’s instructions that the Vault Thief be given medical aid, but he had reminded their subjects (out of her hearing, of course) that ‘giving’ did not necessarily mean ‘administering’. And if Flynt happened to die on their watch because they didn’t follow Tyreen’s orders to the letter, well… 

He smirked. _Accidents happen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a minute since the last update! Thanks for sticking with me <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy decides to conduct some "research".

Lilith watched with fascination as Zane chipped away at the broken thing in his hands. Brows creased in concentration as he worked, he looked as much like his old self as she'd seen in days. That is, until she looked harder and saw the new lines around his eyes and the slight hardness to the set of his jaw that spoke of tension and grim purpose. When he'd tinkered with his gadgets in the past, it had always been for fun or to improve them somehow. This was entirely different. 

At first he’d kept it concealed, as if it were some kind of important secret, but after a while he seemed to give up on that and stopped trying to hide it. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was—it looked like a nondescript piece of broken electronics to her—but it was something to look at other than her own emaciated hands, the steel bars of her cage or the darkening sky through the narrow window. She wondered if he actually hoped to fix it, or if it was just something to keep his hands busy. 

A part of her wanted  _ so badly _ to hope that it was something that might help them; that it might even be a means of getting out of this hell. But she didn't dare dwell for too long on that hope. She didn't think she'd be able to bear the disappointment when it inevitably failed. 

_ Things could be worse. Just think about that. You're both together, both alive, both largely unharmed… Or at least not physically maimed.  _

She looked from the broken electronics to Zane's face, still focused in concentration.  _ He might have gained a few new scars and he might never forgive me, but at least he's okay.  _

Until now, she’d never realised what a subjective word ‘okay’ could be. 

Zane seemed to sense her eyes on him because he looked up, fingers going still as he met her eyes. She looked away guiltily before she could stop herself, then looked back. His expression, no longer focused, was unreadable as he looked steadily at her without speaking. 

After a long, painful silence, Lilith drew a breath to say...something. Anything to break the horrible tension. But before she could utter a word, he spoke first. "Quiet today, eh? Reckon they're bored of us yet?" 

She nearly shrugged out of habit but caught herself just in time. "Not sure. It's been nearly a day since anyone's come down."

"How's the arm?" 

The question surprised her. "I— No change, really. It's not getting worse though, so that's something." 

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes shifting from her face to her injury before narrowing in… Was that frustration? She wondered if he was missing having the scanning ability of his optic.  _ Perhaps with that, he'd have been able to tell me if it's broken _ — _ for all the good it would do.  _

He blinked and looked back at her face. "Any more meds come down here, you're taking them," he said bluntly, in a tone that brooked no argument. 

She tried anyway. "You can't just—" 

"I'm not arguing this. I'm fine. You're not. Simple as that." 

"Zane—" 

"Lilith." 

She sighed. This argument was pointless. The odds of them receiving any more meds were slim unless he was injured in another fight, in which case his argument wouldn't hold up anyway. Better just to agree and keep the peace, for now. "Alright, alright. Fine."

Incredibly, she saw the curve of a small smile cross his face. "And they say  _ I'm _ a stubborn bastard." 

Lilith huffed a surprised laugh. The sudden shift from argument to banter felt so normal, so natural, that in this place of pain and despair it almost felt  _ un _ natural. 

Now that the conversation seemed to be over, Zane went back to his poking and prodding at the little bundle of wires and circuits in his hands. After a few moments, Lilith decided she'd had enough of speculation. Since Zane seemed willing to speak to her again—at least for the moment—she took a breath and asked, "What the hell is that, anyway? How'd you get it in here?" 

"Hmm? Oh, this." He held it up with a rueful grimace. "One of my gloves got wrecked. This was all I could salvage. Might be totally useless, but I figured why not have a go?" 

Her eyes widened.  _ It's one of his claws?  _

"Like I said, it's probably worthless," Zane said with a slight edge to his voice. Lilith wondered guiltily if her brief moment of hope had shown on her face. "Keeps the hands busy though."

And the mind, she suspected. After witnessing what happened when his subconscious was allowed free rein, she wasn't surprised he wanted to focus on something external, something that would take concentration. Lilith had refrained from mentioning anything about his… panic attack? Hallucination? She wasn't sure. Either way, it would do neither of them good to discuss it right now. Possibly ever. 

A door closed sharply not far away and footsteps began to grow louder. One set, so not a crew of cultists here to deliver their daily ration of food and insults, nor was it the heavy stomping of the enforcers. 

A Calypso. 

Lilith could feel her heartbeat growing faster and faster in tandem with the approaching footsteps, until it was hammering so hard it hurt. If it was Tyreen, she was either here to verbally torment the pair of them some more or perhaps to order Zane back out for another round. If that was the case, either Zane would refuse and get himself killed out of sheer stubbornness—not that she could blame him for that—or he'd die in the arena instead. 

If it was Troy… 

Her body tensed involuntarily and she bit back a hiss as pain arced through her shoulder. Glancing to the side, mostly to distract herself, she watched as Zane's hands became a blur of motion. Quickly and carefully, he folded away his little project into a scrap of cloth Lilith hadn't noticed before, though she supposed it must have been torn from his clothes. He tucked the little bundle deep down the side of one boot and swept the fragments of plastic he'd been chipping away to the side, along with the shards of glass from the broken vial. They scattered and blended invisibly with the filthy concrete floor outside the cells. He took a breath and she saw him wince slightly, obviously still pained by his injury. At least it had stayed closed this time, with no new blood showing through his clothes despite him moving around. 

The footsteps were almost outside now. Zane's eyes moved to the door and his expression hardened into a glare, his hands curling into fists so tight his knuckles cracked. Lilith wondered briefly if he even knew he was doing it. Her own hands were shaking as she twisted them together in her lap and she clenched them tighter, her nails digging into her palms. 

* * *

Zane inhaled sharply at the sheer volume of rage and hate that welled up inside him at the sight of Troy, swaggering into the room. His vision tunneled slightly as his eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling through his chest without his permission. 

"Oh, you're still alive? Full of surprises aren't you, old man?" Troy's tone was light, almost jovial, but his smile utterly failed to reach his eyes. He clearly hadn't expected to find both Vault Hunters alive down here. Or he'd hoped not to.   


"Just one o' life's many disappointments," Zane replied with a humourless smile, his voice flat and emotionless. He refused to give the brat the satisfaction of seeing just how angry he was, even if he couldn't shut it down like he normally could.  He wondered absently if he'd lost that ability completely, or if it was only useless where the Calypsos were concerned. 

_ Don't suppose it matters, anyway. We're probably gonna die here.  _

If the retort irritated Troy, he didn't show it. Instead he smiled wider and shrugged. "Never mind. I'm not here for you." He turned his mirthless smile onto Lilith and continued, "See, I have a theory that these new powers of mine can be used for  _ many _ different things, but I need to do a bit more research before I'll understand their true potential. And you know what they say…" 

He held out his hand and a tiny phase lock orb materialised above his palm. He looked at it, then back to her, bouncing it up and down. 

"Practice makes perfect." 

* * *

_ He's been at this for ages. You gotta do somethin’, Zane boy.  
_

_ Do what? What the feck am I gonna do from in here?  _

_ Doesn't matter! You can't just sit here—  _

_ Watch me.  _

He took a breath, ignoring the tightness and pain still lingering in his chest, and looked to the side in time to watch as Lilith was dropped back onto the floor of her cell. Her eyes were wide as they met his and she shook her head, her message clear: Don't get his attention. Don't do anything. 

_ See? She knows there's nothin' I can do.  _

_ Feck that! She's being a bloody martyr because that's all she thinks she's good for. She thinks she's protectin’ you, eejit!  _

His eyes narrowed.  _ Feck off, you don't _ —

_ She's gonna die if you don't do somethin'. You want that on your conscience, boyo?  _

He let out a sharp sigh through his nose and closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them and turning to face the other cell. "You know," he began, pitching his voice just loud enough for Troy to hear him over Lilith's gasps for breath, "I gotta say it's unusual to see you down here these days."

Troy leveled an unimpressed glare at him, briefly pausing in his 'fun' with Lilith suspended in a giant orb. "What?" he asked flatly. 

"I'm just sayin', it's usually your sister that comes down to gloat. Can't resist the old Flynt charm, I guess." He tilted his head with a slight smirk, keeping eye contact with Troy. In his peripheral vision he could see Lilith shaking her head, trying to warn him off even as she suffocated, but he ignored her. 

“The fuck are you talking about?”

Zane shrugged lightly. “Oh, you know. She comes by for a chat. Never mentions you, though… You two havin’ a spat or somethin’?”

Troy’s hand tightened and the orb holding Lilith grew a tiny bit smaller. “You shut the fuck up about my sister.” 

_ Ooh, touched a nerve have I?  _

Zane's smile widened. “She’s quite the charmer, you know. Not bad to look at, either. In another life, in another place, we might’ve—” 

_ CRASH. _

The orb vanished. Lilith collapsed to the floor of her cell, but Zane barely had time to savour that small victory before Troy's metal arm shot between the bars of his cell—bending them outwards very slightly—and punched him hard in the chest, slamming him backwards into the far wall of his cell. He hit the metal wall hard, grimacing as pain tore through his chest and side, but refused to give Troy the satisfaction of hearing how much it hurt. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Troy roared, his eyes flashing with rage as he pulled his arm back. Sparks flew as the metal limb scraped through the gap in the bars. 

Zane could see Lilith moving out of the corner of his eye.  _ Keep it going, Zane. Don't let him focus back on her or this is all for nothin'.  _ He met Troy's furious gaze and held his ground. “Or what? You gonna kill me? Don’t think  _ she'd _ like that very much." He grinned. "I think she’s gettin’ attached to little ol’ me.” 

“Tyreen doesn't doesn’t give two shits about you!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Zane twitched an eyebrow upwards, his smile falling away. “Then why so defensive, boyo?” 

Eyes flashing with rage, Troy's hand twitched towards his hip, reaching for…a gun? His shock torture device? Zane wasn't sure because Troy didn't finish the movement, instead curling his hand into a tight fist at his side as he hissed, "You have no fucking idea how lucky you are. If your stupid little friends hadn't fucked up our plans, you'd be  _ begging  _ for death by now." 

Zane froze.  _ What did you just say?  _

He didn't get a chance to ask, as Troy stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. In the silence that followed, Lilith's gasping breaths were startlingly loud. Still, he was glad to hear them. For all of their issues—and boy were they going to have a lot of those by the end of this—he didn't want her to die. Not after all the effort he'd gone through in keeping them both alive. Taking a deep breath himself, he hissed through his teeth at the pain which followed. If he was lucky, he'd just be bruised; if not, he might've cracked a couple of ribs. Still, he'd had worse. 

"What the… _ fuck _ , Zane?" 

He turned his head and saw that she'd rolled onto her back, her good hand clutching her injured shoulder. Slowly, she pulled herself up against the side of the cage and met his gaze; he was unsurprised to see anger in her eyes as well as fear. "What?" he said innocently.  


"What the hell…was that?" she demanded, still breathing hard from the exertion. "You got a…fucking deathwish or…something?" 

Despite himself, despite everything, Zane found himself grinning at her words. "Zane 'Deathwish' Flynt, at your service." He made a jaunty mock salute with two fingers, before his smile dropped away. "We're gettin' outta here, whatever it takes. And that bastard is gonna pay for what he's done. They all are." 

She didn't look convinced, but he couldn't be bothered to argue the point. In any case, there was something else weighing on his mind right now. "So…what d'you think he meant by 'friends'? Reckon some of the Raiders are still out there after all?" 

At that, Lilith's expression changed. For a moment, she looked almost  _ guilty.  _

Zane's eyes narrowed. "Lilith. What aren't you telling me?" 

* * *

_ He's still alive. He's still fucking _ alive _! _

As he flung the door to the lab open and stalked inside, Troy twitched his hand and the cultist working at the nearest table went into convulsions, her internal organs suddenly having to make room for a bowling-ball-sized energy orb in her guts. As she collapsed, the others scattered like rakks startled into flight, falling over their own feet as they tried to get away from the enraged Calypso. He barely noticed. 

_ Why can't he just fucking DIE? And how dare he talk about Tyreen like that? She would never _ —

" _ Then why so defensive, boyo?"  _

He let out a wordless roar of anger and kicked over the nearest table, scattering broken glass and tools everywhere. 

The worst part was that he knew he shouldn't let the Vault Thief get under his skin like that. He was Troy fucking Calypso! He had the whole world at his feet and nobody could take that from him. Not the Vault Thieves; not even his sister. So why...

Pain shot through his head like a needle behind his eyes. He pressed his hand to the side of it, closing his eyes for a moment. "Fuck... Seriously?" 

Had the serum worn off that fast? He wasn't done testing and refining it yet, so it stood to reason it wasn't perfect. Still, was it wise to keep taking it at this early stage of testing? 

His head throbbed again and he hissed through his teeth, stumbling to the workbench in the corner and blindly reaching for a vial. He could continue working on refining it tomorrow. Right now he needed to do something about this headache. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to include a Lilith segment here, because there's only so many times you can read her POV of being kicked around by Troy before it gets a bit samey. Hope nobody minds! ^_^
> 
> Also, just an FYI: this chapter is the last complete chapter I have written out so far, so I have no idea how long the next one will take. I usually like to leave a buffer but I decided I wanted to just throw this one out since I really enjoyed writing it :) Thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

_ I'm not going down there again. Not after last time.  _

The humiliation of being sent away by her own brother—in her own home!—still stung and she wasn't exactly eager to repeat the experience. Still, she did want to talk to him, if only to demand to know why he went behind her back  _ again _ . 

It wasn't even as if she disapproved of what he'd done! Gods knew the Firehawk had it coming, the self-righteous bitch. Besides, since they'd had to stop broadcasting the fights there was precious little worthwhile entertainment on this shithole of a planet. There were only so many times you could watch your adoring fans murder each other in your honour before it all got a bit…boring. 

But why did he feel like he had to hide it from her? 

Stepping out of her quarters, she headed down the hall towards the kitchens to grab a bottle of something strong.  _ Nothing else to do; might as well drink _ . But as she turned another corner, she saw a rare sight which stopped her in her tracks. 

_ Speak of the devil…  _

Troy was coming the other way, typing away on his Echo.  _ He's not in the lab?  _ That was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. She didn't have to wait too long for him to notice her. As he passed, he looked up from the device and glanced at her, his expression darkening slightly. 

Tyreen shoved down her rising temper—he might be a paranoid weirdo, but he was still her brother—and plastered a smile on her face. "Nice to see you out of the lab. How's the research going?" 

"As if you give a shit," he snapped back, shoving past her. 

"Hey— Troy!" She spun, glaring at his back as he walked away. "What the hell? I get that you're pissed and I've been giving you space, but—" 

He stopped but didn't turn back around. "Thought I made it clear we're not joined at the hip anymore, Tyreen. I don't have to tell you everything I'm doing. Fuck knows you don't give me the same courtesy." 

_ I don't… What? _

Tyreen had always despised feeling confused and as a result, her temper flared despite her best efforts to keep it reined in. "What the  _ hell _ is your problem now?" 

"You know what?" He turned and stomped back up the corridor until he was standing close enough to look down on her. "I'm done expecting you to be straight with me. I'm done."

"Troy, you're not making sense. I don't understand what you're talking about." She folded her arms defensively as he glared down at her, his hands curling into twitching fists at his sides. 

Tyreen fought down every instinct telling her to take a step back. She'd never thought before about which of them would win if they fought for real, but she was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was probably physically stronger than she was. 

Her fingertips tingled. She wondered absently if her tattoos were glowing but resisted the urge to look, unwilling to break eye contact with Troy. 

In the end, he blinked first, turning away and throwing his arms up in exasperation. "What the fuck are we doing here, Tyreen? We own this planet! Why are we wasting time with… with all this  _ bullshit  _ when we could be taking the whole galaxy for ourselves?" His voice rose with each word until eventually he was shouting, loud enough to echo down the hall. If he'd been worried before about their "little spat" getting out among their followers, he obviously didn't care anymore. 

Well, if he wanted to play it like that... 

" _ You _ were the one who wanted to stay in one place for a while!" she shouted back. "We're here because of your precious experiments, Troy! You  _ know  _ that! What the hell is wrong with you?" 

His face twisted into a scowl and he spun, throwing his fist hard into the nearest wall with a roar of fury. The violent reaction wasn't unusual in itself; what  _ was  _ unusual was the fact that he'd used his flesh-and-blood hand instead of his steel one. Tyreen winced as she saw blood dripping down his fingers from where the skin of his knuckles had split, but he didn't seem to feel any pain as he slowly lowered his fist, breathing hard. Her eyes followed the line of his arm up until she spotted the array of needlemarks dotting the inside of his forearm. 

_ Oh,  _ shit _ … How much of that stuff has he taken? Is that why he's so fucked up right now? _

That changed things. Thinking fast, she changed tack and lowered her tone, taking a wary step forwards and holding her hands up as if approaching a skittish animal. "Troy, listen.” She took a breath. “I...I don't think you should use that stuff again. It's messing you up. Look at yourself."

As if a switch had been thrown, the rage fell away and he laughed, turning back to face her. "What?" The manic grin on his face was deeply unnerving after so long with nothing but scowls and glares. "Why the fuck would I stop? I'm fine; better than fine!" 

She looked at him, properly looked him over. This was so much worse than when he’d spent a few sleepless nights in the lab or gone too long without replenishing his energy from her. His skin was slick with sweat, almost waxy-looking, and his eyes shone feverishly in his pale face. He looked sick, really sick. Tyreen was suddenly forcibly reminded of the cautionary stories their father had told them about the dangers of eridium exposure. 

_ Is this what every Pandoran psycho looks like before they go totally crazy?  _

For the first time in a long while, she felt something akin to fear. She was losing him, not to his illnesses as she'd used to fear when they were kids but to a new sickness that had no cure. If he didn't stop taking these risks, he'd lose everything. 

And so would she. 

She bit her lip. There was probably nothing she could say at this point that would get through to him, but she had to try. "Just…be careful, Troy. Eridium is dangerous stuff."

"What the fuck do you know about it?" he snapped, his laughter gone as quickly as it had come. "Nothing!" 

"I know, I know." She raised her hands again, placatingly. "Just… Do you remember what Dad used to tell us?" 

That turned out to be entirely the wrong thing to say. 

"Oh, fuck off with your warnings and lectures and bullshit!" he exploded, his tattoos flaring suddenly bright. "You only started giving a shit about me when I didn't need you anymore. That's what this is all about, isn't it Tyreen?" 

He advanced on her again and this time she did take a step back, her hand twitching towards the gun at her waist but she refused to touch it; not until he gave her a real reason to. She might admit to feeling a little intimidated right now but she refused to admit she was afraid. 

"This isn't about me. This is about you, your need to control everything. Well, you don't control me anymore!" He kept stepping forward until she felt the cold concrete of the wall against her back. 

_ I don't want to control you, Troy! I never did! _

But she couldn't say that to him now. It would just sound like she was lying to try and save her skin. It was painfully ironic that the one thing he'd never believe was probably the most honest thing she'd ever wanted to say to him. 

She looked up, her wide eyes meeting his furious ones and praying for some sign that her brother was still in there somewhere. They'd both grown up so different from the innocent kids they'd once been, but she desperately wanted to believe that her little brother was still in there somewhere, behind this twisted mess of rage and jealousy. 

Troy's eyes darted from her face down to her hand, which was still hovering near her weapon but not touching it yet, and his lips curled into a mocking smile. He could see that she was afraid and he was  _ loving  _ it. She knew he had a sadistic streak a mile wide—hell, they both did—but they'd never been so cruel to each other before. It was always " us"  against  "them" ; the Calypsos kicking ass as an unstoppable team against the rest of the universe. 

What did that make them now? 

She folded her arms, still clearly on the defensive but abandoning her weapon. Troy looked briefly surprised at her change of stance. His tattoos faded back to dull red as he took a tiny step back, as if he'd just realised what he was doing. 

"Just… Just stay out of my fucking way!" he snapped, though his sharp tone now held a slight note of uncertainty which took the edge off his words. He turned his back on her and stalked away, his hands clenching and clenching at his sides. 

Tyreen stayed frozen where she was, back still against the wall, until he was out of sight. Then, without a word, she slipped back into her quarters, locked the door and leaned her back against it. Her hands shook as she pushed her hair out of her eyes, only to find that her vision was still blurred by tears. 

She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried. 

_ I never wanted to control you, Troy. I just didn't want you to die. _

_ I didn't want to be alone. _

* * *

Lilith couldn’t believe it. All this time she’d believed that her brief connection with Amara was nothing but a hallucination, a wishful product of her exhausted mind. Now she knew the truth. It had to be that moment of interference which was causing the Calypsos to be so cautious now. Had the twins been psychically-shielding somehow and that was why Amara hadn’t broken through before? Or had she been unable to try until now? Lilith ground her teeth, despising her ignorance of what was going on outside their prison. 

“Hey. What do you know, Lilith? Did somethin’ happen?”

_ Where to begin?  _

“I saw… I  _ thought _ I saw—” She ran her good hand through her hair, absently yanking it through the tangles. “But that makes no sense! Why now? Why not before?”

There was a pause, before Zane spoke in a voice tight with pain and just a hint of threat. "Lilith, you need to start makin' some feckin' sense,  _ right now _ ."

Lilith took a breath, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she met his gaze. “Do you remember the first time we spoke? That bus ride through Covenant Pass?”

She told him everything. The vision, the distorted message, her doubts over whether it was real. He listened silently to her explanation, his expression carefully neutral. Well, almost neutral. If she didn't know him better she might have wondered if he was even listening but she could see the emotions flickering across his face almost too quickly to identify, his eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance. 

Rage. Fear. Grief. 

Hope. 

The last was the most painful to witness. This was why she didn't want to say anything until she was certain. After everything, she couldn't be so cruel as to give him false hope without cause. 

It seemed that Zane didn't agree with this assessment, though. His gaze focused back on her once she'd finished speaking and she was stunned by the intensity of the anger in his narrowed eyes. "Keepin' secrets now, are we? Is that what we've come to?" 

"No, that's not—" 

"You let me believe they were all _dead_!" he snarled, lunging at the bars and gripping them with white-knuckled fists. "You knew, but I had to find out from _Troy_ _fecking Calypso_?" 

She opened her mouth to say something, anything to refute the awful accusation but there were no words. There was nothing she could say, because he was absolutely right. Whatever her intentions, she had kept it from him and he'd found out in the worst possible way. 

"Feckin' hell! Anythin' else I should know?" he asked scathingly. "Anythin' else you want to share, before I get meself killed saving  _ your _ arse?" 

Her eyes stung with tears but she blinked them away in shame. If she couldn't face up to her own mistakes then what good was she? "Zane, I— I made a mistake. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I didn't think it was real!"

He took a deep, shuddering breath and shoved hard at the bars with a growl, pushing himself away from her. "Doesn't bloody matter. You should've told me." 

"I know. I'm sorry." The words sounded pathetic to her own ears. 

"You're sorry. Oh well, that makes it all okay then, doesn't it?" 

She cringed at the biting sarcasm. His tone was flat, but she could still hear the anger seething beneath the surface. He shifted his weight and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his knees. For a painfully long minute, neither of them spoke. 

_ Now look what you've done. You really are pathetic aren't you, Firehawk?  _

She closed her eyes as a taunting voice that sounded horribly like Troy Calypso echoed through her mind.  _ Stop it. This isn't helping.  _

_ But it's true. Yet another failure from the so-called 'saviour of Pandora'.  _

Eventually, the silence was broken not by words but by a familiar scratching noise. She opened her eyes and looked over to see Zane working on the claw again. She might have felt relief at the sight, if it weren't for the tense set of his shoulders and the anger still clearly visible on his face. It was a testament to his self-control and dexterity that he didn't let his fury affect the delicacy of his work. 

Lilith watched Zane work, while he pointedly didn't look up despite undoubtedly feeling her eyes on him. The tension between them stretched out longer and longer, until the air nearly crackled with it. 

She couldn't bear it any longer. Even more fighting would be better than this. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could even think of what to say—

"Don't. Just don't."

* * *

_She knew. She feckin'_ knew _. This whole time, I thought they were all_ _dead, or worse._

_ They still might be. You're takin' the word of a Calypso here, don't forget.  _

_ Feck off, you're not helping.  _

He chipped at a particularly stubborn shard of damaged solder, clenching his jaw in frustration. If he had his workbench and tools, he'd have got this cleaned up in no time or—better yet—just made a replacement with new parts. 

_ Well you don't, so make the best of it, hmm? _

He ground his teeth but forced his hands to relax before he accidentally snapped the tiny circuit in half. It wouldn't do for his work to go to waste all because he couldn't control his temper. Wedging the sharp edge of his makeshift tool under the blob of solder he carefully levered it up. It came free with a 'ting' and bounced away across the floor, disappearing into a corner. 

_ They're still out there. Some of them, anyway. Amara for sure, maybe Moze if she hasn't done somethin' stupid and got herself killed. FL4K's a born survivor, they'll definitely be okay.   
_

Raising the piece of circuitry up to eye level, he inspected it thoroughly. He'd cleaned it up as best he could given the circumstances; now he just had to hope it wasn't so badly damaged that all his efforts were for nothing. 

He could still feel Lilith's eyes on him. Did she think she was being subtle? He resisted the urge to scoff and kept his eyes firmly on his work. The pins were mostly intact, but a few of the connectors had slipped out of alignment. He frowned in concentration. This was the tricky part. If he broke even one of the remaining pins then the device would be useless. 

_ Take a breath, boyo. Your hands are shakin'.  _

Glaring down at them, he saw that they were indeed trembling very slightly. He took a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds. 

_ You can't feck this up, Zane. You can't. There's too much ridin' on this.  _

_ I know.  _

Opening his eyes again, he looked up and was slightly surprised to see Lilith was facing away from him, her back against the bars between their cells. He'd been so focused on his work that he hadn't heard her move. Still, it hardly mattered right now. If anything, it was a relief to no longer feel her eyes on him as he looked back down at his hands. They'd stopped shaking now but he waited a few more seconds just in case. 

_ Feck, what I wouldn't give for a drink right now…  _

He heaved a silent sigh and set to work. The sharp edge of the needle casing, while perfect for chipping away broken fragments of plastic and solder, wasn't exactly ideal for the delicate work of nudging thin metal pins and tabs back into place. 

A bright spark leapt from one of the connections, followed by a thin wisp of smoke. He blinked away the after images and waited for the smoke to dissipate before continuing, hoping against hope that this was a good sign and that he hadn't just irreparably burnt out the circuit board… 

_ Fzzzhing.  _


	14. Chapter 14

He stared, disbelieving, at the object in his hand for a solid ten seconds. 

When nothing changed, he blinked hard.  _ If I’m bloody seein’ things, I’m gonna— _

It was still there. The blade was sparking slightly and not entirely stable, judging from the wavering down one edge, but it was definitely there. 

_ It… It works?   
_

He gingerly touched the point of the blade to the back of his other hand, hissing through his teeth as it drew a thin line of blood across his skin. 

"Holy shit… You did it!" 

He raised his eyes and saw Lilith clutching at the bars with her good hand, her eyes huge in her pale face. When he met her gaze, she smiled hesitantly, clearly uncertain as to how he'd respond. 

He was still pissed at her for hiding things from him.  _ Beyond _ pissed. She should have told him what she knew, or even just suspected. He didn't know if it would even have helped or if he would have cursed her for giving him false hope, but finding out that some of their friends might still be alive like that—from Troy Calypso of all people!—had just been too much to bear. 

Yet somehow, despite all of that… It felt good to have something to smile about, even just for a moment. 

He let his lips tug upwards into a brief smile, before the atmosphere grew too awkward and he had to look away again. His feelings towards Lilith were far too complicated to properly deal with right now and besides, he had higher priorities. 

The blade worked, yes, but the mechanism which was supposed to activate it had been destroyed by the acid from that skag's attack. Usually the main benefit of using his claws was the fact that they were stealthy. If he couldn't get it to activate on command, it would lose that advantage. There was no easy way to conceal a six-inch digistructed blade on his person at the moment, so it would take a bit more work before it would be a viable weapon. 

Still, it was better than nothing at all. 

"Zane, that's… That's incredible!"

"Not the first time I've heard that one," he muttered, almost on reflex, "but it's not usually me knife they're talkin' about."

She barked a surprised laugh but didn't reply. 

That was better. If she insisted on talking, he had to keep it light, small talk. Better yet, shut it down completely. That way he could focus on his work and not on how much he wanted to cut someone—and he wasn't all that fussy about who. 

_ You don't mean that, boyo.  _

He looked at the blade again, more thoughtfully this time. If he'd had access to this a few days ago, fresh from the massacre that nearly killed him too, he might have given in to the tiny voice urging him to finish the job. 

_ Useless. Can't even protect yourself, never mind your friends. Gettin' too old for this fecked-up world, Zane.  _

He'd been tired to his bones that day, aching, and so close to the edge already that crossing that line would have been as easy as falling asleep. It would have been so simple...until Lilith took that choice away. He could see why she did it, could understand perfectly the position she was in, but at the time it had felt like the worst kind of betrayal. 

_ She was doing what had to be done. Commanders make the hard choices when their soldiers can't; you know that.  _

_ I'm not a soldier.  _

_ Technically, still a Crimson Raider.   
_

He sighed. Hard to argue with that. 

Still, no matter what had happened before, he had a weapon now. He had the means to take his fate into his own hands once more. 

_ What the bleedin' feck does that even mean? _

He shook his head sharply, as if shaking the tangled thoughts from his mind. He was still tired to his bones, still aching all over, but he wasn't done with this world yet. The Calypsos were just two more names on a long list of people who'd dared to cross the last surviving member of the infamous Flynt clan.  The only thing which set the pair apart from the rest? 

They were still alive. 

He smiled again, a real one this time, as he turned the blade to catch the weak beam of electric light flickering down from the ceiling. 

_ Not for long.  _

* * *

For the first time since they'd been captured, Lilith was starting to feel like they might actually have a chance of getting out of this place alive. 

How exactly a knife was going to get them out of a heavily guarded prison filled with gun-toting fanatics, she wasn't sure yet. Still, she refused to let a little thing like practicality get in the way of the first real sense of hope she'd felt in weeks. 

"Ow! Feckin' hell!" 

She looked up to see Zane shaking out his hand, the now-inert digistruct module smoking slightly from where he'd dropped it into his lap. "What happened?" 

"Bloody thing zapped me," he muttered, picking it up gingerly and eyeing it with a frown. 

Lilith watched in slight trepidation as he cautiously poked the mechanism with the tip of a finger, cursing when it sparked again. The blade flickered to life, only to flicker away once more as he pulled his finger away sharply. 

She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but the easy camaraderie they'd once shared felt too volatile now to risk such an inane question. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her. Instead she decided to do something she hadn't done in a while. One limb at a time, she stretched each muscle as best she could, testing her flexibility. 

_ Should have been doing this every day.  _

She didn’t dare test her injured shoulder but rotated the other one as much as she could bear, pulling it awkwardly across her chest and wincing as tension tugged across her upper back. 

_ I know.  _

Her legs protested as she flexed her ankles, pointing her toes and stretching out her calves.  _ Fuck,  _ it hurt but she might need to use them sometime soon. 

_ Why bother? Even if this crazy plan of his does work—which it won't _ — _ you're only going to be a burden.  _

The muscles of her back ached savagely as she leaned forward as far as she could, reaching for her toes with her good hand. 

_ I know that too.  _

_ If he's got any sense, he'll leave you behind. More chance of making it out on his own.  _

Tears pricked at her eyes but she blinked them away.  _ He wouldn't do that.  _

_ Wouldn't he?  _

She paused and glanced over at him, then looked away and leaned slowly back against the wall. Sore all over, she closed her eyes and consciously reminded her muscles to relax. 

“Hey, Lil?”

His voice was soft and so unexpected that she jumped, wincing as the sudden motion sent pain all down her back. “Y-Yeah?”

“There’s...somethin’ I need to say.” 

She looked at him cautiously, wondering what on earth it could be. Was he not done haranguing her for leaving him in the dark? She wasn’t sure she could take much more of his censure. 

Zane drew a deep breath, then said the absolute last thing she'd expected to hear. "M'sorry."

Her mouth dropped open before she could stop it.  _ Um… What?  _

If he noticed her shock, he didn't acknowledge it. "I know I've been an arse, an' I wanna—”

A door slammed not too far away  and he cut himself off, his head jerking towards the door. As Lilith's eyes widened in sudden fear, she saw his hands tighten around the scrap of gadgetry in his lap. 

_ It’s not ready. We’re not ready! _

Zane cocked his head and closed his eyes for a moment, clearly listening hard. “Not one o’ them,” he muttered. “Too loud.” 

“Not…” Her voice trailed off and she felt a rush of relief, closely followed by a wave of guilt as she realised what he meant. Not a Calypso meant that it was someone else. It wasn’t long since they were last brought food, so… 

_ No. NO.  _

He slid himself across his cell and thrust his hand out through the bars towards her, holding out the piece of circuitry. “Hide it. Keep it safe, Lil. You hear me?” 

“Zane, I—”

He shook his closed fist at her urgently. “If they find it, we’re both dead.” 

She took the device, sliding it carefully into a pocket. He pulled his hand back, gripping the bars with white knuckled intensity. "If I don' come back—" 

"Zane—"

"No, listen. If I don' come back, you use that and you get yourself out. You hear me?" 

She started to shake her head but he was having none of it. "I need you to promise me, Lilith. I got no feckin' clue what's waitin' for me up there, but one of us has to get outta this shitehole and you just might have a chance wi' that." 

She didn't want to make that promise. She didn't want to have to think about trying to escape this place alone, injured and grieving yet another dead friend. She had to say something, however, and his piercing glare seemed to cut right through to her fear. In the end, she settled for saying, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

He narrowed his eyes at her and she knew he'd seen through her evasion. "Lilith."

The footsteps were almost outside. Lilith threw a glance at the door, then looked back at Zane, who hadn't taken his eyes off her. "Fine, I promise," she said finally, raising a challenging eyebrow, "but only if you promise to come back." 

His lips twitched into a smile and he shook his head slowly, not in negation but apparent amusement. "You got yourself a deal, Commander." His tone held no sarcasm or mockery this time, just weary sincerity. 

She was starting to feel something like emotional whiplash from his changing moods, but decided to make the most of this switch for the better. It had even sounded like he was trying to apologise to her, before they'd been interrupted by the impending unpleasantness outside their prison.

Speaking of… 

In the moment that she'd been distracted by her own confusion, Zane had got to his feet, his arms hooked casually around the bars and his eyes still fixed on the door. To the casual observer, he looked almost relaxed, but she knew him better than that. He was planning to draw their attention, make sure they stayed away from her and the weapon she was concealing. She ran her fingers lightly over the pocket where she'd tucked the forbidden object. 

_ He's right. If they find this, it's over. Either they'll think it's trash, just destroy it and our last chance will be gone, or they'll recognise it and just kill us both. With this kept safe, we have a chance _ — _ a small one, but still a chance.  _

"When we get outta this," he muttered, so quietly that she wasn't sure she was meant to hear it, "if I never hear the word 'cult' again it'll be too feckin' soon." 

She grimaced in agreement, then froze.  __

_ "When"? _

Eyes wide, she stared at him, wondering if he'd even meant to say that aloud. Unbidden, a memory surfaced of his unexpected outburst from what could only have been a week or two ago, though it felt like a lifetime. 

_ "I'm gonna fight to protect both of us. Whatever it takes to keep us both alive until we can get out of this hellhole and give the Calypsos what they deserve." _

Lilith wasn't sure at what point she'd fully lost her determination and hope, but it seemed that even after everything, Zane had not. Perhaps he had been galvanised by the sudden reappearance of hope, in the form of their cobbled-together weapon; perhaps he'd simply found the inner strength needed to pull himself together and face what was coming without flinching. Perhaps it was a combination of both. 

She had no idea, but she could tell something was different about him. He seemed… confident? No, that was the wrong word. He had none of the cocky self-assurance he'd usually display before a confrontation. This was something else, something grim and filled with tension. It was like watching an animal in a cage, waiting for the right moment to strike back at its captor. 

_ How apt.  _

* * *

Zane closed his eyes for a long second and focused on his breathing, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the rising tide of anxiety twisting in his guts. Taking a deep breath, he blew it out slowly. 

_ Be careful out there, boyo. You've already pissed these lunatics off good an' proper.  _

_ …Thanks, Captain Obvious. Any more words o’ wisdom for me?  _

There was a long moment of silence. 

_ Don't let 'em forget who you are, Zane "Ferocity" Flynt.  _

He opened his eyes, a small smile crossing his face as the door finally opened. If the enforcers were taken aback to see him standing at the bars, waiting for them, they hid it well behind their customary scowls and swagger. Zane did notice one difference, however. 

"You're new, right?" he said, frowning at one of them before looking at the other. "What happened to your friend? Get sick o' lookin' at your ugly mug?" 

The large man bared his teeth in a growl and grabbed for the keys on his belt, unlocking the cell door with more force than was strictly necessary. "Shut the fuck up and walk." 

The newcomer cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Get out or we'll make you."

Zane wondered briefly if the Calypsos ever got tired of having such boring, predictable minions. "Fine, fine…" 

* * *

The labyrinthine trek back through the corridors to the arena was just as long and boring as Zane remembered, with one notable difference. Last time the halls had echoed with screams, laughter and gunfire, the hallmarks of a thriving bandit community. Now, they were eerily quiet and littered with more of those purple-tinged "statues" than he'd ever seen in one place. 

He nudged one with a foot as they passed and it toppled over, shattering into a mess of grey and purple shards that glittered in the harsh electric light. 

_ Oops. _

His captors tugged him onward, the one he'd goaded earlier tightening his grip on Zane's arm painfully. Zane was starting to understand why he'd been so angry. The enforcer's former partner (friend, even?) must be somewhere among the husks now decorating the place. 

What interested him more, however, was the growing number of husks that they passed. They littered the rooms on either side of the corridor, whole groups of people frozen in place for eternity. He was marched past an open double-doorway and goosebumps prickled all the way down his arms at the sight of at least fifteen husks. Unlike the others, these were not frozen in gestures of worship, but in the act of trying to escape. He even thought he saw fear on the distorted features of the one nearest the door. 

As far as Zane knew, Tyreen usually hand-picked her 'meals' from a selective group of her most elite followers. This looked more like a wholesale Phaseleech rampage. 

_ An' there I thought these weirdos couldn't get any weirder.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Zane's thought processes and behaviours are a little erratic and inconsistent right now, but rest assured that this is entirely deliberate :) 
> 
> Soppy author's note incoming (because it felt like a good time to write one)...   
> While I write chiefly for myself and my own enjoyment, it means the world that other people can also get some enjoyment out of reading my work. I just want to say a huge, HUGE "thank you" to everyone who has taken the time to read, leave kudos, give me feedback, or any combination of the above. Thank you so much for your time. You guys are the absolute best <3


	15. Chapter 15

To Zane's dismay, they didn't give him back any of his equipment this time. No SNTNL, no armour, no gun; just a sharp shove in the back to tell him to get moving down the tunnel. If there hadn't been the familiar swell of crowd-noise from the other end, he might have thought that this was some kind of surreal nightmare. 

As if he needed more of those. 

_Just keep movin'. One foot in front of the other_. 

_"Keep movin', pipsqueak!"_

He gasped, feeling the razor-sharp memory of a shotgun muzzle pressed against his back, feeling the cold metal through his shirt despite every rational thought screaming _it's not real, it's not real!_

_The gun digs into his ribs again and he stumbles towards the shed, wide eyes staring into the darkness beyond the gaping mouth of the doorway._

_I don't wanna, please, please don't make me—_

His shoulder collided with something hard, jerking him roughly back to reality. Swivelling, he leaned his back against the wall, his chest aching as he closed his eyes and fought to get his hammering heart back under control. 

_Feckin' hell, get a hold o' yourself, boyo!_

Heart still beating a painful tattoo against his ribs, he opened his eyes and concentrated on taking several deep breaths. He fixed his gaze on a crack in the floor several feet away, tracing its length with his eyes until his vitals returned to something resembling normal. 

The intrusive memories were getting more vivid, he noted with a mix of irritation and concern. If he couldn't keep his own mind under control, if he lost his grip again at the wrong moment—

_If, if, if. Feck the 'if's and 'maybe's. Get your head in the game, Zane, or you're gonna lose._

Cracking his knuckles out of habit, he shook his head wearily and set off towards the source of the noise. He'd doubted the Calypsos' creativity before, to his detriment, but now he didn't think there was anything they could do to shock him like last time. 

_Famous last words, boyo._

_Would you kindly shut up?_

As he trudged down the tunnel, glumly noting the lack of anything resembling a door or hatch that might double as an escape route, he noticed something else that was different. 

Normally, this would be the time that the Calypsos would be amping up the crowd. It was weird to hear the screams of psychos and fanatics without the overlay of Tyreen's voice. He wondered again what had changed. Had something happened to her? She and Troy had been at odds, last he'd heard… Was it too much to hope that they'd had some kind of fight? Maybe even killed each other? 

_Don't get ahead o' yerself._

As much as he wanted to deck the owner of that pessimistic little voice, he couldn't deny the point. He had to be patient. Scout the situation and act accordingly. 

He had to admit though—even just to himself—that he'd be sorely disappointed if he was robbed of his chance to kill Tyreen.

* * *

"He's here, God-queen."

Tyreen looked up, before flicking her fingers dismissively at the speaker. "Finally, something worth watching." 

She kicked up her feet and swung her legs around so that she was facing the arena, her fingers drumming on the armrest of her throne as she looked around at the bloodstained sand. The last batch of followers she'd teleported in had managed to kill each other too quickly for her liking. Even a whole morning of leeching Troy's lackeys into husks had done little for her mood. They'd tasted _awful_ too. 

She _was_ looking forward to Troy's reaction to what she'd done when he finally decided to pull his head out of his ass. 

_Is that petty? Whatever, I don't care._

One of the gates below her platform clanged open and she smiled, peering over the edge to see Flynt walking onto the sand. Tapping out a command on her Echo, she allowed her voice to be amplified across the arena while a mic-drone zoomed down to circle him. "It's about time, Vault Thief. I was starting to get bored." 

"A tragedy, I'm sure," Flynt deadpanned, narrowing his eyes at her before looking away disinterestedly. 

She might have been offended, if she hadn't noticed the way his hands curled into fists as his sides as she spoke. So he wasn't totally unaffected, then. She was glad that the Vault Thief was made of stronger stuff than the average Crimson Raider. If he'd broken too easily, he wouldn't have been nearly so much fun to play with. 

"We gonna get to it?" Flynt barked impatiently, looking around the platform pointedly. "Or are you waitin' for somebody?" 

She smiled. _Someone's eager today._ "Oh no, it's just us. Troy's a little busy so I get you all to myself." 

"Busy, is he?" Flynt raised his eyebrows. "Shite. I was hopin' you'd finally decided to eat 'im. Isn't that what you cockroaches do?" 

Her smile froze for just the briefest moment and her knuckles whitened on the arms of her chair, before she got her emotions back under control. It was too late, however; his knowing smirk was enough to tell her he'd seen her little slip. 

_Fuck! I'm starting to see why Troy hates this guy so much._

Tyreen plastered her smile back on her face. "Glad you've still got that sense of humour, Superfan. Let's see how long that lasts." 

The crowd around them roared with pent-up excitement. He looked up at her with a scowl, his eyes flicking across the platform before returning to her. She didn't bother waiting to see if he would reply. Instead, she stood up and raised both hands, her tattoos flaring bright as she summoned another swarm of loyal minions. 

"My loyal followers, now is your time to shine! I want to see _blood!"_

* * *

It was interesting, watching Flynt fight.

With her thousands of bloodthirsty followers, eager to kill themselves and each other for the glory of their God-queen's approval, it was never an issue of numbers _._ What her followers lacked (and what Flynt had in spades) was _creativity._ The ability to think for themselves, not just blindly follow orders or run screaming into combat and get cut to pieces, only for their fellows to immediately do the same. It was entertaining for a while, but it quickly became tedious. 

The Vault Hunter, however… He was a different matter. 

She'd made a point of denying him a weapon at the start, to force him to improvise. He hadn't disappointed. It was clear that guns and gadgets weren't his only means of dealing damage, though hand-to-hand combat would only get him so far in a gunfight. She smiled in amusement as she watched him manipulate two opponents into accidentally shooting each other, snatching a shotgun from one of them before they hit the ground and joining the fray again. There was already a trail of bodies marking his progress around the edge of the arena, but he was being annoyingly cautious, reluctant to move out into the open.

"Come on, Vault Thief. Where's that showmanship you had last time?" she taunted, her voice echoing across the arena. 

He shot her a glare but she just laughed. 

_Time to mix things up a bit._

She reached to the table beside her, fingers curling around the device lying there. 

"Oh, I almost forgot! Got a surprise for you, Superfan."

* * *

A surprise from Tyreen was never a good thing. Zane tried not to let her distract him, a tricky thing considering the intense rage that grew hotter with every syllable of her voice. It helped that, rather than all of them attacking him like last time, this batch of lunatics seemed just as happy murdering each other, leaving him able to pick them off a few at a time. Not for the first time, he wondered if he himself might have ended up that way if he hadn't escaped his crazy family and found his own way in life. 

_Best not to think about it, boyo._

He ducked behind cover to reload, picking off a few stragglers with his purloined pistol—the shotgun had served its purpose for now. Besides, there was hardly a shortage of weapons to be had in this fight. 

A familiar buzzing noise caught his attention and he frowned. _What the…_

Then he saw the tell-tale blue flashes of electricity and his eyes went wide. But they hadn't given him—

_Oh… No. HELL NO._

But his fury didn't change the fact that Tyreen Calypso was holding the trigger device for his beloved SNTNL and smiling in a way that made his skin crawl. 

"Let's see what this thing can do," she whispered, her quiet words still carrying around the arena. 

_Shite. Don't do this to me, little bud…_

He watched the drone fly from side to side, scanning for targets. A couple of unlucky fanatics failed to get out of its way and got electrocuted as it whirred across the battlefield. It had the ability to recognise both him and his allies—he'd made sure to program that in so he didn't accidentally kill a client or teammate—but with its controller in the hands of an enemy, he wasn't certain that it would be enough to override a direct order. 

A bullet whined past his ear and he ducked, cursing his distraction and firing back. If he didn’t pay attention, a little shock damage would be the least of his concerns! He shot down another two psychos before the trigger clicked uselessly and he tossed the empty gun aside, already scanning the area for a new weapon. All the while, SNTNL whirred closer and closer, taking out a few fanatics along the way. He wasn't sure how long it had been active for but it had a fairly decent running-time. If it targeted him, he'd have to deal with it before it gunned him down with the rest. 

"This is _cool_ , Vault Thief! You make this yourself?" 

He ignored her, snatching up a rifle in one hand and a grenade in the other. Ripping the pin out with his teeth, he threw it into the thickest part of the fighting and followed up with a hail of bullets, keeping the enemy's numbers at a manageable level. Overhead, SNTNL whirred and flashed, its sensors fixing on him as it tried to decide what to do. 

He glanced up at it warily. "Come on, Zoomer. Don't—" 

A sharp mechanical whine cut him off and he cursed, rolling to the side to avoid being perforated by a volley of digistructed bullets. Tyreen's delighted laughter echoed around him as he dived again, trying to put enough distance between him and the drone in the hopes that it would select a different target. 

He should have expected this. Somehow, in amongst all the other shite going on, he'd not once thought that she might use his own inventions against him. He cursed his own foolishness and arrogance for never considering this situation as, for one blessed moment, the drone got briefly distracted by a nearby group of warring fanatics. It vacillated between pursuing him and attacking the new targets, turning back and forth in the air above the battlefield. 

"Ooh, there's a button on the side here. What does that do?" 

_You gotta deal with this_ now _, boyo. Before she figures it out._

 _Feckin' hell, I know!_ He scowled. _I didn't wanna have to do this. I'm sorry, Zoomer._

Before the drone could settle on a course of action, Zane made the decision for it and ran straight at the drone, timing his approach so that he was directly underneath it just as its guns overheated. The ticking of the cooling metal filled his ears as he raised the rifle, aiming carefully upwards. He fired three rapid shots directly at the centre of the drone, bypassing its peripheral shielding and destroying it from the inside. 

As glittering pieces of deconstructing metal rained down around him, he risked a look up to the platform and smiled at the disappointment on Tyreen's face. "Oh ho ho! Spoilin' your fun, am I?" he murmured, though he suspected she would be able to hear him—despite the bullets flying in all directions, the camera drones were still ever present and annoying. 

"Enough of this!" Tyreen said sharply, slamming the controller down on the table beside her with a crack that made him wince. "Beloved followers, I'm startin' to feel like you're not even trying! So let's sweeten the deal, huh? Last man standing gets Eridium Plus membership for life, and whoever brings me the head of the Vault Thief gets a special reward from _yours truly_!" 

As one, the lunatics on the sand and in the audience roared in adulation at their God-queen's announcement. Zane rolled his eyes and used the moment of distraction to disappear behind the hulking mass of a dead enforcer. It was obvious to anyone with half a brain (therefore discounting every screaming fanatic in the audience) that Tyreen wasn't done playing her games. She clearly had every confidence that he would survive this and live to entertain another day. 

He allowed himself a brief moment of anger before taking a breath and forcing the rage down, assessing the situation. 

_There's at least thirty o' them left, assumin' she doesn't send in any more._

He checked his ammo and grimaced. Might be enough…so long as he didn't miss. 

* * *

Despite Tyreen's offer of a reward to the lunatic who could kill him, they still couldn't seem to resist fighting amongst themselves. Zane used this to his full advantage, picking off the stragglers while the bulk of the remaining opposition did his work for him. Stealth worked surprisingly well in an arena littered with the dead and dying. All he had to do was smear himself in blood, move slowly and duck down behind a pile of corpses every so often, and they easily lost track of him. 

He glanced up at Tyreen's platform and saw to his amusement that her eyes were darting across the arena, brows furrowed in irritation as her camera drones buzzed across the other side of the field. How he'd managed to evade them for this long, he wasn't quite sure, but he'd take what he could get. 

_Hmmm… I wonder…_

Aiming carefully, he fired two shots in quick succession. Both cameras exploded, scything the surrounding sand with shrapnel and splattering viscera from a few unlucky souls who were fighting too close by. 

"You're starting to piss me off, Vault Thief… " 

Tyreen's tone was still light, amused even, but he was getting a feel for her moods now. She was _pissed_. He had taken her toys away one at a time and now, by hiding and killing from the shadows instead of entertaining her, he was ruining her fun completely. 

He was down to his last mag; soon the rifle would be useless. Scanning the area, he realised with a jolt that there were only five fanatics still standing, squaring off but no shooting—for now. 

_Well, then, what are you waitin' for? Let's finish this._

He steeled his nerves and shot down three of them before they had a chance to react. The remaining two dived for cover but made the fatal mistake of peeking out and attempting to shoot back. They might win a battle of numbers but nobody would ever credit the psychos of Pandora with an abundance of intelligence. 

As the last one collapsed, blood pooling around the mess that had once been his head, Zane scanned the arena for movement. Seeing none, he straightened up and walked with purpose towards the platform where Tyreen was standing, her arms folded as she watched him approach. As he walked, his eyes fixed on her, he felt the rage rising up through his chest like a boiling tidal wave. 

He still had the rifle in his hands. 

_Don't be daft._

He kept walking, his fingers tightening around the weapon. 

_This is suicide. What the hell are you doin'?_

At the centre of the arena, he stopped, still facing the platform. Tyreen was still watching him, her lips curving into a smirk even as her eyes remained cold. "Well _damn_ , Vault Thief! If I'd known you were gonna be this entertaining I'd have—" 

He raised the gun and aimed it at her, finger poised on the trigger. 

_Don't do this, boyo!_

Through the rifle's sights, he watched Tyreen's eyes widen in surprise. Her followers raised their own guns, a bristling array of gun barrels sprouting from the platform and surrounding stands. For one long moment, everything was frozen. 

He met her eyes and pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Lilith in this one, I hope nobody minds... She'll be back, make no mistake, but (I think I might have said this before) there's only so many ways to write "sits in cell, feels like shite" before it gets a bit...meh. So you get more Zane instead! Everyone wins! 
> 
> ...Except Zane. Sorry, boyo.


	16. Chapter 16

A volley of shots rang out and Zane closed his eyes, expecting the pain and jarring impact of bullets tearing him to pieces. 

When he felt neither, he opened them again. 

A shimmering shield of pure energy spread across the sand in front of him, emanating from the outstretched hand of the woman standing just yards away. Bullets tinkled harmlessly to the sand, both his own and those of the fanatics who'd returned fire. 

_Why didn't she just let 'em kill me?_

He looked up and met her gaze. She smirked. 

_Why d'you think, genius?_

More shots cracked through the air but the bullets froze as they struck the barrier around them and fell harmlessly to the ground. The only thing keeping him from being riddled with holes was Tyreen, still standing directly in his line of fire with a bright energy ball balancing on her palm. His trigger finger twitched. 

"You're not gonna shoot me, Superfan." Her voice was low and soft, almost kind. "Wanna know how I know that?" 

He didn't reply, his hands steady as he shifted the aim of the gun from her chest to her face. 

"For fuck's sake, Vault Thief. You're as stubborn as they come, aren't ya?" She grinned. "No wonder you're still kickin'. Not many of you heretics left now, and the ones I've met… Let's just say they didn't have your fire." She winked. 

Fecking _winked_. 

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on his gun and trained the sights squarely between her eyes. Tyreen's smile widened and she took a step forward, bringing the shimmering energy barrier with her. 

_What the feck is she doin'?_

Nerves jangling, he stood his ground, fighting every instinct that told him to either dive for cover or rip her throat out. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and he fought not to blink, knowing how fast she could move now that she had Lilith's Phasewalk ability. 

"Such a shame you didn't follow in your family's footsteps, Superfan. We might have been friends." She laughed, adding, "Or at least, you'd have made a great follower." 

_Shoot her! What the bloody hell are you doin', idiot?_

But it was as if he was frozen, his hands not obeying his brain as he watched her step closer until she stood barely a foot from the muzzle of his gun. Her eyes flicked to the gun, then back to him, her mouth still curved in that infuriating smirk. "Come on, Flynt. You're not going to—" 

Click. 

His eyes widened in horror as the trigger clicked uselessly, nothing left to fire in the spent magazine.

"See? Told you." She raised a hand and tapped the side of her nose with a finger. "I can count, Vault Thief, I'm not dumb. Shouldn't have wasted all those bullets, huh?" 

_Stupid, stupid! Feckin' idiot!_

But he couldn't afford to dwell on his own increasing depth of self-loathing and regret right now. She was still within striking range, if he was quick. 

Zane took half a second to consider his options, before jabbing toward her face with the butt of the gun, knocking her back a step. She yelped in surprise and raised a hand to her face, but didn't lose her composure like he'd hoped. If anything, she was grinning even wider than before, despite the blood running from her nose. 

"Now this is more like it! I was worried that your little tumble had knocked all the interesting outta you!" 

The shield was still up. A distant part of Zane's mind marvelled at her strength and control, while the rest of it seethed with blind anger. He swung the rifle at her again, hitting her across the cheek, before tossing it aside and diving at her. His whole body weight slammed into her chest, knocking her over onto her back and before she'd even finished falling, his hands closed around her neck.

* * *

There was no stream today. No video feed to the cells. Still, Lilith stared at the blank glass of the screen across the room as if she could will it to show her what she wanted to see. 

He could be dead already. 

She shook herself mentally, finally tearing her eyes from the black screen and looking down at her hands. They trembled very slightly as she curled them into loose fists in her lap. 

_Perhaps it's for the best. It's not like I can do anything, even if I_ could _see what's going on_. 

Guilt stabbed at her as soon as she finished the thought. What kind of commander would choose to bury their head in the sand? 

_Commander of what, exactly? The Raiders are gone, most of them probably dead, and the rest…_

Her shoulder throbbed aggressively and she realised she'd tensed up, her hands clenched into fists. Slowly, she took several breaths and consciously loosened them up, allowing her shoulders to drop and hissing as pain radiated down her arm. 

Not for the first time, she wished she'd paid more attention when Maya had been trying to teach her meditation techniques. If there was ever a good time for rest and energy conservation, it was now. The painful reminder of her lost friend made her heart clench and she let out a shuddering sigh, but no tears. 

_Maya, you'd be so much better at this than me. I wish you were here. You'd know what to do._

Her thoughts drifted to the other Siren in their lives and she wondered where Amara was now. She'd heard nothing since the first scrambled communication they'd shared. Had the Tiger given up on them and returned to Partali? Or was she still with the Raiders, trying to find their lost friends? 

She felt hope stir faintly within her once more and prayed silently that it wasn't in vain. 

* * *

The God-queen's pulse hammered under his fingers as Zane squeezed, every ounce of rage and hate pouring out as Tyreen choked and gasped for air. The whole time, her energy shield stood strong. 

_Why? Why doesn't she drop it and let 'em shoot me?_

Almost as if she'd heard his thoughts, she flung out a hand, bright sparks flickering at her fingertips. He yanked one hand free from her throat and slammed it down on her wrist, keeping it pinned to the sand. _Oh no ye don't!_

Looking back at her face, he wasn't sure what he expected to see. Fear, perhaps? Pain? He certainly didn't expect to see her smiling up at him, eyes dancing with amusement despite the fingermark bruises forming on her skin. 

_What the—_

Before he could even finish the thought, he felt ice-cold fingers close around his wrist and squeeze. A bright flash of light made him wince, but that was nothing compared to the assault of pain that followed. He recoiled, trying to wrench his hand away but she held it in a vice grip as pain seared up his arm like fire. 

"Did you really think," Tyreen rasped, her rough voice the only outward sign that she was affected at all by his attempt on her life, "that you were the only one who knew how to put on a show?" 

Her tattoos flared even brighter and he hissed through his teeth as the pain increased in tandem, coursing through his blood like molten iron. He shuddered, vision blurring as he tried fruitlessly to free himself from her grip. 

_This is what she did to Lilith. What Troy did to Maya. Now it's my turn._

Was she finally done with her games? Would she turn him to ash, or leave him just another charred husk? 

He didn't want to die like that. 

He didn't want to die at all. 

The realisation was almost a shock. He tried once more to wrench his arm free but only succeeded in overbalancing and toppling to the side. Quick as a snake, Tyreen was on top of him, her other hand clamping around his flailing wrist and pinning him down. 

It hurt so much he couldn't think. Couldn't see. Fire burned through his blood, his whole body shaking with pain and shock as he gasped for breath. His ears filled with a distant roaring, though he couldn't tell if it was the crowd or his own blood hammering through his veins. 

Above him, Tyreen tutted. "Honestly, were you hoping I'd just let you die? Boring!"

He bit out a curse, convulsing as the pain somehow reached new heights. His vision darkened and he felt his head fall back onto the sand, his strength failing. 

The sky swirling above him, he blinked up at her and saw that she was laughing, though the sound took another moment to reach his ears. Her smile utterly failed to reach her eyes; no longer sparkling with amusement, they glittered like chips of cold stone as she looked at him. 

“I think I like you down there.” 

Her hands let go of his. It wasn't a sudden cessation of pain, but at least it stopped getting worse. No longer able to muster the strength even to speak, he watched hazily as she got to her feet, stepping around him to crouch by his head. If he'd been able to move he'd have turned away, but it was all he could do just to keep his eyes open as she reached out a hand and gently curled her fingers around his neck in a mockery of his attack. 

"Fuck! You Vault Thieves taste good. I should have leeched you ages ago." Her fingers tightened to the point of pain, just for a moment, before she let go and stood up. "To think I've been slumming it with trash like this." She kicked the nearby corpse of a dead tink with a metallic crash that went through Zane's skull like a shard of ice. He closed his eyes against the pain but that just made it harder to open them again. 

The crunch of boots on sand filled his ears, underpinned by mocking laughter, before everything faded away.

* * *

The headache was back. Again. 

Troy groaned into his clenched fists, his back against the wall as he sat curled on the floor of his quarters. The serum was wearing off faster and faster now, with less relief each time he took another dose. 

He reached for the satchel on the floor beside him, hand shaking as he pulled a vial free. It slipped from his fingers and shattered on the concrete floor, leaving a shimmering purple mess. "Shit. Shit!" 

Grabbing another, he was carefully fitting the needle when he heard voices outside in the corridor. 

_"—the look on his face! I wonder if there's a recording?"_

_"Nah, idiot, he busted the cameras, remember?"_

_"Oh shit, yeah…"_

Troy's knuckles whitened and he heard a crack as the vial gave under his clenched fingers. Cursing under his breath, he held his thumb over the crack and jabbed the needle into his arm, sighing as the pain behind his eyes receded almost immediately. 

Another obnoxiously loud burst of laughter filtered into the room and he pushed himself to his feet, intending to teach the idiots a lesson about disturbing him, when the next thing he heard froze him in his tracks. 

" _Fucking Vault Thief doesn't know how lucky he is. Heretic doesn't deserve the God-queen's touch."_

_"I know, right? I mean, it kinda looked like it hurt, but still!"_

Troy frowned. Had Ty finally finished playing with Flynt and decided to leech him? 

" _Shame she left him alive though. I was looking forward to smashing in his stupid face—"_

_"S'alright. Just means I get another shot at him next time!"_

More laughter. " _Yeah right, like you have a chance. Did you see him out there?"_

A louder crack echoed around him and he looked down to see blood dripping down his fingers. The crushed remains of the vial stuck out of his palm at odd angles, but the stinging pain felt a long way off. 

_She let him live? AGAIN?_

If he hadn't been so lost to his own irrational rage, he might have paused to wonder why this bothered him so much; whether it actually was jealousy or some kind of misplaced protectiveness. That possibility had long since passed, however, and as he picked the shards of glass from his hand, he found himself only growing angrier. 

He tossed the last piece of glass aside with a ‘ting’ and turned towards the door, gripping the handle hard as the floor tilted slightly under his unsteady feet. This had gone on long enough. 

If Tyreen's judgement was so fucked that she couldn't or wouldn't do what needed to be done… 

He'd do it himself.

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly, each blink bringing with it a sharper awareness of his surroundings. 

Zane could feel the tight grip of hands around his arms and the scrape of concrete under his boots as he was dragged along. Pain radiated from his wrists and he vaguely wondered if his skin was actually burnt where she'd grabbed him. Nausea and dizziness plagued his aching head and his blurred vision only served to make it worse, so he closed his eyes again. It didn't help much. 

Trying to think around the dizzying fog clouding his mind, he considered his situation. He was still alive. Why? He'd tried to kill Tyreen—had held her life in his hands, quite literally—and yet she still hadn't killed him even when he was utterly at her mercy. 

_Either she's not done playin’ with you, or you're the luckiest fecker on the planet_. 

He might be alive, but he didn't feel particularly lucky right now. 

The dizziness spiked and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. How did Lilith make this look so easy? Sure, she'd been weak and exhausted after her run-in with Tyreen's Phaseleech power, but she'd been able to get up and walk on her own. He even recalled her batting away his efforts to help her up the ramp into Sanctuary III, insisting that she was fine. He wasn't sure he could even stand on his own right now, let alone walk. 

The movement of the world around him slowed and he opened his eyes. Everything was still a blurry mess but he could see enough to know that they were back at the cells. He hadn't been out for very long, at least. Unable to focus well enough to meet Lilith’s gaze, even if he could see which direction to look in, he kept his head down and fought not to throw up as he was jerked to a sudden stop. 

The clang of the cell door opening was deafening and he barely had time to brace himself before he was unceremoniously thrown into the cell. He yelped as he hit the metal floor hard on his side, skidding into the back wall with a thud. 

"We better clear out. Boss wants some time with the heretics."

 _Hasn’t she had enough fun for one bleedin’ day? Or is it_ his _turn next?_

Gritting his teeth, Zane remained still until he was certain he wasn’t about to pass out or vomit. Blinking, he was pleased to see the room was in slightly better focus now, though still blurred around the edges. The door closed with a snap and he slowly pushed himself up onto his elbow, then his hands, until he could turn far enough to rest his back against the wall. 

“Zane?” 

He turned his head and saw the blurred shape of Lilith at the bars. “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself.” She made a valiant attempt at bravado, which he could see right through. “You don’t look so good, killer.” 

“Gee, thanks.” He tried for a grin but it came out more like a grimace. “Not my idea of a good time, that.” 

“What did she do to you?”

He looked down and turned his wrist to check out the reddened skin where Tyreen’s touch had burned him. “Same as she did to you. Only I don’ have any fancy Siren powers to nick, so…” 

“So it just took your life force instead,” Lilith finished for him. 

“Yep.” 

She was silent for a long moment. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine.” 

“...Zane.” 

“What?” He looked at her again, blinking to refocus his eyes when she blurred for a second. “You know how I’m feelin’, Lilith. Don’ make me spell it out for ye.” She looked away and he felt a twinge of guilt. He’d been trying to mend bridges, not burn them down all over again. “Shite, I'm—”

“No, you’re right. Dumb question.” She gave a forced smile. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece, anyway. They keep underestimating you, don't they?" 

He shook his head slowly. “If they wanted me dead, I’d be dead. This is all just some twisted game to them.” 

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. "Still safe?" he muttered without context. 

She knew what he meant anyway. Touching the pocket where their makeshift weapon was stashed, she replied, "Yeah. Nobody's been down here since you left." 

"Good." He opened his eyes and looked at her, holding out a shaking hand towards the bars. "Give it here, I'll see if I can—" 

A door slammed and loud footsteps started up at the other end of the corridor. 

"—get it workin'," Zane finished slowly, his expression hardening as he recognised the gait of those footsteps. 

From the way the colour drained from Lilith's face, she also recognised the familiar tread. He supposed she'd heard it often enough to know what was coming. When she didn't move, he smacked his hand against the bars to get her attention, ignoring the discomfort it caused his aching wrist. "Lilith. Give it here." 

She startled, tearing her eyes from the door. "Yeah. Here." 

With fingers shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline, she retrieved the tiny gadget from where she’d tucked it into a pocket. Before she handed it over, she hesitated. “Don’t do anything rash, Zane. Please.” 

“Give it, Lil.” He held out his hand, jerking his fingers impatiently. _We don't have time for this!_

Heaving a sigh, she reached through the bars and handed it over. He wondered if she felt the same way as he did: as if it wasn't some inert bit of tech but instead a live grenade, seconds away from going off and killing them both. If he fucked this up, it might as well be. 

"After what happened before, he's gonna be gunning for you this time. You know that, right?"

_Countin' on it._

Zane's eyes flicked from the device in his hands, up to the door, then to her. He remembered how good it had felt to hold Tyreen's life in his hands. This time, however, he intended to finish the job. 

His mouth curved into a feral grin which barely touched his eyes. 

She sighed, realising there was no point in trying to persuade him to be careful. "I hope you've got a plan." 

"Yeah." His grin widened. "Stab the fecker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly started this chapter with a Lilith segment but I couldn't bring myself to do it, not after the cliffhanger I left you all on. Thank you for reading <3 and have a very merry Christmas!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute... ^_^' 
> 
> Thank you everyone who's stuck around and left me such incredible feedback so far. You guys are the best <3

As the footsteps grew louder, Zane could feel a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't fear, not exactly, but a kind of nervous tension that set his teeth on edge. It really didn't help that he still felt weak and achy, as if recovering from a rough bout of flu or a horrendous hangover. He took a slow, deep breath and ran his thumb over the digiclaw's connectors once more, careful not to press too hard and accidentally activate it. 

He'd need to be smart about this. There would only be one chance and if he screwed it up, they were both dead—or worse. 

Lilith fidgeted next to him and he glanced at her, grimacing at the pallor of her face and the way her fingers were twisting anxiously in her lap. He wondered if the calm, authoritative Firehawk who'd recruited him was still in there, or if her fire had been extinguished by captivity and the Calypsos' cruelty. 

_You should say somethin'._

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Like what? "Nice knowin' you, hope we don't die"?_

_You know what I mean, arsehole. This might be your last chance._

_No. None o’ that sappy shite. I'm_ not _gonna screw this up._

_Can you promise that?_

He scowled. Of course he couldn't. There were no certainties here, besides the consequences if he failed. There were so many things that could go wrong—the device could fail, he could drop it or miss a vital spot—but if he focused too much on those he'd just descend into panic. Instead he closed his eyes and took another deep breath, pushing the anxiety and lingering nausea away as best he could. 

_Just like your trainin', Zane. This is just like that. You got it?_

The loud footsteps stopped outside the door and there was a—

 _—jingle of keys while Baron laughs through the door, ignoring his pleading and pounding on the solid wood while the skittering claws behind him get closer and closer_ —

"Zane?" 

He opened his eyes. Lilith was watching him, her pale face unreadable. She didn't speak, but her wide eyes spoke volumes. Not trusting his own voice, he just gave her a silent nod which she returned after a moment of hesitation. The jingling continued and Zane palmed the device in his hands, shifting it out of sight but still easily accessible. 

As the door finally opened, Zane's eyes widened. "Hell… You've seen better days, boyo."

Troy had been pale and sickly last time he'd seen him, but now he looked _terrible_. His eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles, darted between them as he swaggered into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. As it slammed, Zane saw movement out of the corner of his eye and realised Lilith had moved quickly to the back of her cage, pressing herself against the wall as far as she could go. 

The door handle rattled and Zane looked back round to see Troy locking it behind him. 

_Well, that can’t be good._

"There. No interruptions." Troy gave them a horrible smile. "We've got some things to talk about, Vault Thief."

* * *

 _Better make sure_ she _doesn’t stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong._

Flicking a couple of switches on the side of his Echo, Troy glanced at the camera feed streaming directly from Tyreen’s quarters. He wasn’t interested in spying on her—there was such a thing as too much sharing, even between family—but it was useful, especially recently. Easier to avoid having to look at her stupid smug face if he knew where she was or, to be more precise, where she _wasn’t._

Right now, she was lounging on a couch with her Echo in one hand, the other fiddling with the neckline of her shirt. Troy caught a glimpse of bruises around her neck and grimaced, looking away in disgust. He'd heard enough through the walls (certainly not out of choice!) to know that she could be as much a masochist as she was a sadist and that those marks had probably been made consensually. He didn't need to see evidence of it as well. 

Shoving the device away, he returned his attention to the captives in front of him and smiled. Looking from one cage to the other, he couldn't decide which reaction he liked more: the Firehawk's fear or Flynt's anger. He stepped closer, tossing the keys into the air and catching them again once, twice. On the second go it took more effort than it should have to catch them smoothly and he tucked them away before he could do anything so embarrassing as dropping them. His vision blurred briefly but he blinked away the disturbance impatiently. 

_I'm just tired, that's all._

"Isn't this nice and cosy?" he sneered. 

Flynt's eyes narrowed, though his tone was light when he spoke. "No cameras today, eh? Private show?" 

Despite his efforts to appear nonchalant, Troy bristled. There was just something about the man's voice that made him want to break things. "Fuck you. I don't live my whole life on a fucking screen like—" He cut himself off sharply but the damage was done. 

Flynt raised his eyebrows. "Like Tyreen? Shite… You two aren't still fightin', are ye?" 

"Don’t talk about her."

But Flynt just grinned. "Hah! Called it." 

He ground his teeth. “I told you to shut up. _I’m_ talking now. Or do I need to remind you losers who’s in charge here?” Raising his hand, he flashed the shock weapon in his palm and smiled as the Firehawk curled up even smaller—quite the feat, considering she’d started cringing before he even walked in. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“So why _are_ you here, then?” 

_Fuck, does he ever stop talking?_

Troy’s fists clenched and he felt the edges of the shock weapon digging into his palm. Ignoring the discomfort, he turned towards Flynt. “Don’t make me use this on you instead, old man. Not sure your ticker could take it.” 

But instead of shutting up, or having the decency to be afraid, the Vault Thief just smiled wider. Troy found himself wondering if the last surviving Flynt might be as rakk-shit crazy as the rest after all. 

"Ye know, I've been wonderin' for a while… Why haven't you two just killed us already?" 

"You—" _Wanna die?_ Troy was going to say, but Flynt cut him off. 

"I figure it's one o' two reasons. Either you need us alive for some reason, ratings or some shite. Or… it's somethin' else." He gave a wry, knowing grin as Troy's jaw clenched. "You got somethin' to get off your chest, boyo? No judgements here, I swear." 

"Zane." The hiss from the other cell was so quiet that Troy almost missed it. The Firehawk was staring at her companion, fear all over her face. Despite the rage still burning through him, growing with every moment he spent looking at Flynt's _stupid_ face, he couldn't help but feel a frisson of pleasure at the terror in her eyes as they flicked to him for a moment. 

_I did that._

_The Firehawk is on her knees and it's all because of_ me _._

Flynt, meanwhile, ignored her and continued. "Now, I can absolutely relate to your sister's little crush, but—" 

Any enjoyment Troy was feeling in that moment died as soon as he registered what the Vault Thief had said. 

_No. It's not true. She would never…_

Before he could even fully form the thought, Troy found himself moving. Sparks flew and the sound of grinding metal filled the room as his mechanical fingers closed around the Vault Thief's throat _._

_Stop talking! Just fucking STOP!_

* * *

"Guess yer sister's—not the—only one who—likes it rough," Zane rasped, his grin shifting to a grimace as Troy's grip tightened. 

_Gods, Zane, stop! You're just making it worse!_

Lilith bit back a helpless sob as Zane choked, wrenching ineffectually at the steel digits digging into his neck. 

_I should have seen it sooner. How did I miss the signs?_

She'd spent enough time around the lunatics of Pandora to recognise the symptoms of eridium poisoning. Bloodshot eyes, darkening veins, erratic behaviour...and that was only the half of it. He wasn't using his siren powers either, which was odd; he never missed a chance to show them off. Perhaps the eridium exposure was making them unreliable? She'd never had that issue but then she was a full Siren, not a half-formed one like Troy. His powers had been an accident—according to the laws of nature, he never should have had them in the first place. 

_Thud._

Zane hit the back wall of his cell hard and dropped like a stone to his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air. His face was tight with pain but as she watched, his hand rose not to his bruised throat but to his head. She moved closer, gripping the bars between their cells with white knuckles, and his eyes flicked towards her at the movement before closing in a long, pained blink. 

_Shit… He’s still concussed; he shouldn’t be doing any of this!_

Another loud bang startled them both and Lilith looked around to see Troy extricating his steel fingers from a deep crack in the wall. He was muttering something too low and too fast for her to understand, but the tone of his voice and the few words she could catch sent a chill down her spine. 

"... _their_ fault… gonna make him _pay_ …she said—no! Fuck…" 

Tearing her eyes away from Troy, she focused on her companion. "Zane? Zane!" she hissed, barely more than a whisper. 

"Hmm?" He looked at her sideways, lowering his hand slowly. A glint of metal showed between his fingers and he gave her the slightest twitch of a smile. "I got this, Lil. All...part of the plan."

"No, listen! He's out of his mind. He'll kill you without a second thought. You _can't_ —" 

"And what the _fuck_ are you two whispering about, hmm?" 

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she quickly pushed herself away from the bars, but it was too late. Troy’s face was contorted with rage, the veins standing out from his skin and glowing faintly purple in the dim light. Lilith knew she shouldn’t stare—that it would only make him angrier—but she couldn’t look away. She’d always known he was a monster, long before he’d started torturing her just for the pleasure of it. This was just the first time he'd truly looked the part. 

"The hell are you looking at?" he snarled, thrusting out his hand at her. 

A familiar blinding flash was the only warning she got, barely giving her time to draw a panicked breath before the orb closed around her. Frozen, unable to move or speak, she could only in horror as Zane staggered to his feet, looking far from steady. She slowly rotated in the spherical void, losing sight of the other two as black spots gathered around the edges of her vision. She’d been through this many times before, when he’d kept her suspended just long enough to _almost_ pass out, before giving her minimal recovery time and repeating the process. 

Except… It didn't seem like he was letting her go this time. 

Her chest burned for air and the blackness grew across her sight until she could no longer tell up from down. There were faint sounds filtering through the barrier of energy around her, but they were like faint echoes. A crash, a shout; they might as well have been whispers. More shouting followed, but she couldn't understand the words. The sounds blurred together, then faded away to nothing. 

* * *

She blinked. 

_Has it always been this bright in here?_

The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't floating anymore. Her limbs didn't have the weightless feeling of being frozen in space; on the contrary, they weighed a ton and ached like hell. Her whole body felt like she'd gone three rounds with Brick, bare-knuckle. Her injured shoulder ached the most, but in the cacophony of pain signals from the rest of her battered body, she barely noticed the difference. 

As the rest of her senses returned, she started to feel something on her skin, where she was touching the floor. She thought it was just the cold sensation of the metal but as she shifted her limbs slightly, she realised it was wet, almost sticky _._

_What the…?  
_

The next thing to return to her was sound. Over the pounding of her aching head, she could hear another repetitive noise. Soft but oddly staccato, it reminded her of the sounds a punching bag made when she was training.

Blinking hard, she forced her eyes to adjust to the glare of the harsh overhead light. 

"Kill ye…kill ye _dead…_ "

Her heart rose at the familiar accent, though his tone sent a flicker of unease down her spine. The odd punching sounds continued and she put all her effort into turning over, onto her side, so she could see what was going on. 

Once she managed it, she almost wished she hadn't. 

The stickiness she'd felt on her skin—on her clothes, in her hair—was blood. It was _everywhere._ Streaks of it stained the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. It dripped down the bars of the cells like candle wax. The sickly sweet smell of iron and copper filled her nose and she fought the urge to gag. A large pool of the stuff had spread out over the floor, spreading across the metal base of the cage she lay in. Against the pale steel of the cell floor, it looked almost black.

At the center of the dark pool...Zane. He was kneeling with his back to her, one arm raised upwards and bloody to the elbow. A thin wisp of smoke curled upwards from between his clenched fingers. The light flickered for a moment, glinting off the edge of the blade in his hand before he swung it downwards again. 

And in front of Zane, flat on his back with bloodstained hair obscuring his face, lay the mangled remains of Troy Calypso. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Thoughts? ^_^
> 
> Now I know some of you will be thinking 'hang on a minute, all that build-up and we don't even get to see him die?'  
> All I'll say is: have faith, friends :) 


End file.
